Behind the Waterfall
by ArwenFairTinuviel
Summary: Behind the waterfall, behind the secret, behind the love. After Aragorn and Arwen first meet at twilight and both fall in love, Aragorn knows Arwen has done something to a mysterious garden that links their love, but she is hiding from him what. Curious?
1. Aragorn's Tears

**Behind the Waterfall** _This story is dedicated to my bestest friend Emily, who is so amazing that she deserves the whole world!_

– also titled as the Unwritten tale of the meetings of Arwen and Aragorn in Rivendell.

This is after Arwen and Aragorn first meet at twilight under the birch trees (if you do not know it you can read it in Appendix A (v) p1033). Because he is a mortal he is supposedly unable to love an immortal elf-maiden and he fears that she will not love him…

Chapter 1 - Aragorn's Tears

It was strange, Aragorn thought, when something you had been so sure in was suddenly overturned, and scattered into a million pieces before you. How were you meant to pick up all the tiny pieces to once more form the beautiful object it had been before, or was it impossible and should you just give up and leave everything behind? Who was to say what was right when you alone could make that one decision?

xxxxxx

He was not allowed to love her… he was not allowed to love ARWEN…

When Aragorn thought about it, it hurt him so much. It cut his heart so deep that somehow he felt even more in love than he had before, as if his blood from the fresh wound had leaked throughout his whole body.

Aragorn almost screamed in frustration. He glanced up from the green grass beneath his feet and headed straight for the nearest trees. The topmost branches were swaying in a soft, warm breeze, blossoms and leaves twirling down in the air movement. He wished he could free himself like that, to just let go and leave this form of himself behind and become someone new. He hated himself, he hated everyone, he hated the laws of Arda and he hated every single thing -

Except for Arwen. She was so gentle, calm, loving, kind… she was the one he could never despise or have anything against. She was the one who would always be there guiding him ahead through the dark shadows. Like a pale white niphredil flower she tenderly watched the world go past. She was perfect, a dream, a heavenly being – _and he wasn't allowed to love her._

Suddenly Aragorn had the fierce urge to flee, to escape as fast as he could and leave all this suffering far, far behind. He broke into a run, charging through the trees and sprinting away from the sight of the fair elven house. He had to get away, he had to leave this agony behind him.

Aragorn just ran, ran and ran, desperately trying to find some way to express himself, the anger and the pain. Nothing could crush his love, but if he could not destroy the way he felt about her, then how was he meant to live?

Branches whipped at his bare arms and cheeks while he fled, but they were nothing compared to the inflictions of knowing Arwen probably did not love him. He could not leave her, he just couldn't. He loved her so much – Aragorn nearly gasped to hear himself think it. But although he had never said it, he had known that his heart had been stolen at his first sight of Arwen. He had given the whole of his soul to her there and then. He could never let her go.

Aragorn couldn't see anything, his eyes were watering so much in the stinging of the raw air – such was his speed and desire to get away. Trees were blurred objects passing through his hazy sight, and the land under his fleeing feet was all one continuous streak of pale green. The tears brimmed in his eyes, filling them with that sad silvery liquid he had never felt so desperately before. Then the only thing he could see was Arwen, in his dreams, in his hopes. She was his pure love, she was his heavenly star, faultless and flawless; yet he was a mortal so he _could not love her…_

Aragorn suddenly collapsed to the ground, bursting into tears. Rivers overflowed from his eyes, they streamed down his face and dripped in huge drops off his chin. He hugged himself into a tiny ball, trying to console his conscience by rocking slowly from side to side. But he could find no comfort, because how could he when he could not love? Love was the heart of happiness, the blood of life. You could not destroy it, neither you could not call it on command. It fell upon you by fate, and even the rules of the world could not change it; he had simply already fallen in love.

Aragorn whimpered in distress, crying out for her. For Arwen. She was the moonlight shining out through the dark night, she was his fire keeping him warm, she was his hope out of lonely despair. He had seen her, he had talked to her; her voice was pure music more lovely than the soft rush of water falling down, and her touch was one to raise the dead; her aura was a sweet fragrance bringing life to nature, and her face was lit by the white Evenstar up in the midnight sky; but it was her eyes, her beautiful deep eyes, so much gentleness and peace, and love… if nothing else it was her gorgeous blue eyes which stirred Aragorn's heart.

He cried harder and harder, for he could not understand why he could not love her. He could not help it; his passion was set on her, and set unchangeably. Even though he was a mortal. He knew far within him he would not live with out Arwen, he would not be able to survive. Not unless he knew she loved him too.

But what was the chance? What was the hope that that was true? How could it be true, when she was such a high elf-maiden, Evenstar of her people? Aragorn wept to ease the pain, but the pain hurt him more and more. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide himself away from the thought of her not loving him. His hands curled up into tight fists, frantically attempting to close around his hopes, escaping so easily from his weak hold. Huddling up so small, he wished he could just vanish from the entire trauma he was in, to be given a life of peace.

And Aragorn shut his eyes so firmly, closing out all the light around him, and shutting out the vicious pain of ice white knives stabbing down on his heart, just leaving the plain untouched darkness where he could see her, _Arwen_. He tried so hard to make himself believe that she was there, and that she was coming to soothe him.

Then quite suddenly, without any realisation before, he heard a gentle voice speaking out to him nearby.

"Aragorn?"

Her whisper made Aragorn at first think that he was imagining, his dreams really playing in his mind, too realistically. But Arwen really had come to him before when he had seen her, when he had believed that she was Lúthien.

And then a light touch came to rest upon Aragorn's shoulder, sending an immediate uncalled-for shiver down his spine.

"Aragorn?"

This stole the hot breath from Aragorn's lips. Cautiously, his heart beating violently, he turned his face away from his damp hands, and slowly raised his tearful eyes to see who had found him. There, his dream had come true. Arwen stood before him, shimmering like a crystal, so clear and defined even through his relentlessly watering eyes. As his sight fell on her face, Aragorn trembled, he was moved so greatly by her beauty.

"Aragorn, Ú-nirnaeth…" (do not cry) Arwen fondly washed her eyes all over him, at once recognising his painful anguish and lamenting tears. Her gentle expression changed to deep concern, and she quietly knelt down beside him. Another couple of tears rolled down Aragorn's cheeks as his sore eyes brimmed again.

"No…" she breathed. Sighing softly she moved her hands downwards and Aragorn watched her, also squeezing more out more tears. She held a swan-white handkerchief in her hand, which she urgently opened out. Then, lovingly gazing at his troubled face, she gently reached forward and ever-so-delicately wiped his tears away. As the last few drops trickled down from his cloudy eyes, each one Arwen caught, and she never let any run down his face. She always found them and almost magically made his tears disappear.

"Ú-nirnaeth…" she repeated again, smiling softly as she met his misty eyes. Then she took her moist handkerchief away and carefully folded it up. As she looked at him, immediately she warmed Aragorn's heart and took his worries away. He was entranced by something in her glance, a power which was mystical and unfathomable, and held him in quiet ease, making him forget his pain.

Then Aragorn felt something silky being pressed into his hands. Frowning somewhat, and, not finding any clue in Arwen's elf eyes, he looked down. He saw her long elegant fingers placing her handkerchief into his palms. Smiling in gratitude he looked up again.

"Just in case…" she whispered.

Aragorn bowed his head a little. "Hannon le." (Thank you) Then he suddenly seemed to realise what had just happened and how strange it must have looked to Arwen; and he was ashamed.

"Goheno nín, Arwen," (forgive me, Arwen) he murmured, purposefully not making eye-contact.

Arwen sighed quietly. "Aragorn; Ú-moe edhored." (There is nothing to forgive)

He looked up, and his gaze fell upon her smile, spreading throughout her face. Then he was unexpectedly aware of the sense of her just about to say something to him, yet it was not quite that, but a movement lingering in her crystalline eyes. Before he knew it, the moment had gone.

Arwen took a fleeting glimpse to the side, and then gracefully stood up, bringing her hands elegantly together. In suit Aragorn followed, planting her handkerchief inside his pocket as he hurriedly tried to remember his manners through his concern.

"I'm sorry," he said to her, under his breath. This time however, she laughed softly. But then her smile fell. "But why do you weep?" She reached out to touch his hand in concern.

Aragorn looked down at their touching hands, but he could sense Arwen's gaze upon him. At her gentle question he felt more tears rise up his throat, and he was afraid of what he could say.

"Do not worry, Aragorn," she then whispered, and he glanced up to her. "All of your fears will pass away." She smiled gently and her eyes softly twinkled like stars. He inclined his head and looked down once more.

Aragorn barely dared to let himself say what he wished to ask her. Suddenly he found his voice and looked up at her. He asked her the question, his fear showing in the quietness of his voice.

"Would you care to walk with me a while?"

He held his breath as he gazed into Arwen's blue eyes. His heartbeat sounded like a drum within him. What would she say?

And then all his fears vanished as she smiled tenderly.

"Of course, Aragorn," she replied, as her eyes sparkled like stars and her smile deepened beautifully. "I would not miss it for the world…" Aragorn felt her touch his heart and he smiled. He held out his hand to and she delicately took it.

Then she leant in to whisper something in his ear, so quietly it was as if she desired to keep their moment secret forever.

"Thank you, Estel…" she breathed.


	2. The Same Garden

Chapter 2 – The Same Garden

Aragorn smiled lovingly at Arwen and her eyes shone in return. Then, together, they began to walk slowly away up the valley, passing under the bowing white branches of the birch trees.

"I have heard who your father is," Arwen said. Aragorn glanced at her, slightly confused by her words.

"Are you talking of Arathorn?" he answered unsurely.

"I am sorry, I meant Ada." An expression of recognition passed over his face.

"Ada- Elrond?" Arwen nodded. Aragorn spoke warmly. "Yes, he has cared for me since I was a young child."

Arwen spoke with a glimmer of mirth in her voice. "It is strange to think we both have had the same father." Aragorn smiled too. "But you were right the first time, your blood father is Arathorn. And of late I have heard a great deal about his son."

Aragorn turned to face the elf-maiden apprehensively, and she smiled. "Do not fear, they were all good things!"

Arwen waited until he had glanced away before she continued. "I could not tell you how happy I was to meet you." She looked sideways at Aragorn, pretending to not have as he then looked at her, and for a moment his words were halted.

"True that may be, but my first meeting with you, my lady, is and forever shall be priceless."

Arwen immediately hid her face from him as her cheeks turned a heated rosy-colour.

"Aragorn, you need not to call me your lady. We are not acquaintances." It was now his turn to redden.

For a while they walked along in silence, already brought closer to each other. Both were more content to be in the other's presence than they would ever know.

Aragorn spoke out again a few blissful minutes later. "How long has it been since you last walked in Imladris?"

With a heavy heart Arwen sighed. "Many years. Too many, I believe. Things here have changed. They have changed everywhere." There was an ominous gap. "Darkness is growing again. The shadows are growing longer. Everything is changing." In her voice Aragorn could hear her sadness.

"The enemy has awoken. But do not speak of such evil now. Today is beautiful."

"You are right. I need not think about the Shadow today." Her tone became lighter. "Please take me somewhere special. It would give pleasure to me greatly to see the beauty that still flourishes in my father's realm."

Aragorn smiled. "Certainly, my favourite garden is nearby. I am sure you will fall in love with it." He looked into her eyes and saw her delight. She mouthed 'thank you' as Aragorn began to lead the way forward.

The ground started to slant upwards, and although it was not very noticeable at first, soon it became very steep. At one point Arwen thought she heard the rush of the high waterfall of the valley, but it faded as they turned round a kink in Aragorn's rising path.

The trees grew thicker on each side, thriving in the well-nourished soil, and high waving emerald ferns and bushes of pink heather closed in tightly around them. The long slight branches of the birches created a beautiful archway above them as they climbed up the increasingly steep slopes, and dappled sunlight spellbindingly danced around their feet.

The journey seemed timeless to Arwen as they steadily climbed up. The thick undergrowth reaching to even over her waist had a wonderfully fresh woodland scent, and the trail of Aragorn's winding pathway suddenly caused long-forgotten memories of her times in Rivendell to flood back to her in one huge wave. Each tree had a story to tell, the songs of the birds rained down memories of different days, and the scent of elderflowers locked her in the past. Even the tiny blue flowers on the tree-climbers tried to wrap Arwen in fair images of herself when she had been younger.

But not quite.

Something else was entrancing her, something new was leading her mind astray.

Aragorn had stirred her heart from the moment she had seen him, and as her eyes traced over him she found that every single thing about him she loved more tenderly each time. He was unbelievably gentle to her and he talked with such care and kindness that she felt special to the very ends of the world. He was extremely concerned if she was unhappy, and if she laughed, then his face lit up like one hundred stars and his smile melted her down instantly like a white-hot flame.

Arwen could not take her eyes of Aragorn's body, no matter how hard she tried. She just watched him as his long dark hair fluttered while he walked, and beams of sunlight fell down and highlighted gleaming golden streaks there, so silky that she desired to reach out and fondle them. All the time she wished he would turn and gaze at her, for his eyes were so deep and so adoring, and she could sense his soul beneath them, and it touched her where nobody else had before.

Every time he turned round to check that she was there, smiling and catching her eye, she found that she could not help also smiling but then shyly looking down. When he had turned back she lifted her eyes up to watch him again, carefully walking up the slopes, lightly stepping over the stones, and holding low branches which overhung their way back for her. Just the way he was acting was so kind to her, and she found that it touched her further than anything had, moving her in such a strange way. She could not help acting coyly around him.

Aragorn stopped ahead of her, and watched as she demurely came after him, her feet passing silently over the yellow cowslip flowers. As she paused next to him, he noticed her eyes flickering lingeringly up over himself until she met his eyes. They were warm and sensitive.

"We are almost there," he spoke softly. "Close your eyes and let me lead you."

Arwen blinked, her deep eyes pouring into his.

"Go on…" he said.

With her heart racing in her chest Arwen gently shut her eyes, completely giving all her trust to him. Immediately her senses felt sharpened and everything around her seemed more intense. She felt Aragorn lovingly take her hand and begin to walk slowly forward. She could hear crickets chirping in the long grasses and the chaffinches' midday song in the trees way above her. As she gradually followed on in his tracks, yielding leaves brushed over her long dress, and little petals fluttered down onto her nose and cheeks. A new fragrance filled the air, one of fresh, sweet flowers, which enlivened her spirit and lightened her step.

Then Arwen felt things changing. The sparse grass and leafy floor rapidly turned into a thick carpet of grass, delightfully soft to walk on, and closing in over her bare feet completely. The sound of birds faded into the background while the soothing hum of dragonflies wafted through the warm air. She came out into the sun, hot rays falling down upon her skin. The plants around her pulled back and she walked out into a clearing. There was a dreamy splash of water and the sound of it running away down a narrow channel.

Aragorn still held her hand gently and took her very slowly into the middle of the small garden. He spoke out to her through the painting of natural music around them.

"You can open your eyes."

Arwen sighed shakily, surprised to find herself breaking down at his soft voice, but still did not let go of his familiar hand. She was extremely curious to see the garden to which he had brought her, and the thrill was shooting through her veins and sending them on fire. Cautiously Arwen opened her eyes.

She gasped.

Her sight opened upon a sparkling blue waterfall ahead of her, just higher than she stood, and the water fell down in glistening droplets with tiny rainbows captured inside each one. There were snow sprays as the cool water collided with the sapphire pool. Echoes slipped over the smooth surface, ripples the colour of ocean tides, and it slid into a narrow stream. The water trickled away through the sea of pink clover-rich grass, teasingly slurring as it vanished through the colourful beds of flowers encircling the garden, no doubt to drop down in another waterfall. But not one so graceful or romantic.

"It's beautiful…" Arwen spun round in circles, trying to take in everything at once. Aragorn smiled and moved with her, clasping her hand affectionately. He told her about all the surprises and secrets of every single thing they could see, and Arwen struggled to believe her eyes.

White evening flowers tumbled down from rocks high above the waterfall, and thriving handfuls of forget-me-nots sprang out of needle-thin cracks. There were the bright bell bushes of frescias which looked like purple petticoats, intermingled with fountains of wild daisies. Rich pink and baby-yellow honeysuckle clambered up the safe enclosing trees, pouring down a heavenly scent, above clusters of plants which Arwen did not know the name of, ones with hot orange flowers with green pixie hats over their buds.

Niphredil flowers were scattered about the tree roots as if someone had lightly thrown them out of a basket as they danced round the garden in a ring. Lavender bushes waved their violet heads high above the ground as the pink and red roses curved above them in arcs. A low cherry tree stood at the west side, reaching out its long branches heavily laden with fruit. Arwen spun round to see where she had entered the little garden, only to find the gap sealed by an elegant silver birch with spinning crystal leaves.

"It's beautiful, Aragorn," she said again in amazement as she looked around once more. "But- how did you know?"

Aragorn frowned and turned to face her. "How did I know what, Arwen?"

Now she looked confused as well. "I - I thought you said that this was your favourite place. But it is mine. Maybe I heard you wrong."

Aragorn shook his head. "No, you heard me right. This is my favourite garden. But, how did it come to be that you loved this garden too? I have never told anyone of it."

"Would that you told me the same answer," she replied. "But I am very glad that nobody else knows about this garden. It is very precious to me." She smiled, a little more meaningfully perhaps.

"I found it years ago, just by chance. Whilst exploring in the woods I stumbled through the trees into the clearing. I do not know anything about it, as I have not spoken of it to anyone else… apart from you now." Aragorn met her sparkling eyes.

She blinked and a curious smile crept up as she struggled to refrain from asking him the question of why he had only ever brought her here and no one else.

"Thank you, Aragorn. It means a lot to me." He smiled and Arwen felt her heart beat even quicker. "But I would like it if you could tell me all the secrets you know about this garden." As she said this, Aragorn caught a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Of course. Then let us sit down and I can tell you everything."

He led Arwen over to the other side of the mirror-like pool, stepping over the little stream, and they both sat down very close to each other at the waters' edge. Arwen slid her feet gracefully into the water, without making so much as a ripple, whereas Aragorn made more of a quiet splash. He leant back on his arms, rolling up his sleeves.

"Well, I know that this garden always seems to make me happy whatever mood I am in," he began, seeing Arwen watch him intently. "When I was a child I found countless things to do – the elderflowers make a wonderful cordial to drink - it enlivens your senses - and the wild strawberries are sweet and juicy. The bright red cherries are lovely to eat and make a wonderful pie. I used to climb in that sycamore tree and the hazelnut tree over flocks many birds. Just past where we came in I made a wigwam when I was nine."

Arwen strained to see it through the thick green leaves. She smiled as she caught sight of the long straight branches twisted together at the top.

"The leaves from that tree make perfect boats and the clump of bushes with pink flowers just here is a brilliant place to have a den under. Up on those rocks you can always find ladybirds, and the shells on the fruits of that strange plant can be hollowed out to make a musical instrument, which calls rabbits to you in hops and bounces. The butterflies are so tame they will come and land on your hair, and in summer there will not be a day when a dragonfly does not come to drink from the pool. The water is warm even in winter and the silver pebbles on the rocks at the bottom are so pretty that your Ada thought I had been given them by someone who had been to the sea."

"I did that!" Arwen laughed. "I gave a whole necklace to my mother and he thought I had taken it from somebody. I asked why and he said that he had only ever heard of ones like these to have come from the sea. He even thought that they came from the shores of Valinor!"

Aragorn smiled. "This garden never needs tending, and yet it has looked as beautiful as it did the day I first stumbled across it. The lavender perfume is so strong it can send you into a long, untroubled sleep if you sniff enough of it. Swallows fly over, but it is nightingales which linger here every time I come. Arwen-" he paused "-um, somehow they remind me of you." She looked at him questioningly but he could not explain anymore.

"The sweet peas have a sweet subtle scent issuing from the thin lilac flowers. I adore the baby-starshaped flowers of the hydrangea bush, with the delicate blue shades and heart-warming pinks. In between the branches I made a tiny tree-house." Arwen looked and indeed he had, and she was startled by the skill he had, for the style was unbelievably similar to the flets in Lothlórien, and even an accomplished elf with crafting hands would take many days to produce such a slight and elusive tree-house.

"Arwen, the petals of the deep red roses are so supple it is as if they are made from the silk as my best shirts. And the silvery-white evening flowers are so beautiful that they could be entwined in your hair and you would look like a dream."

Arwen smiled and glanced away from him shyly.

Aragorn struggled to think of anything else. "Hmmm, and, I love to bathe in the pool."

Arwen suddenly looked at him with an expression of shock. "You have been in this pool!"

Aragorn frowned. "Yes; why? There is nothing wrong, I think. It does always seem to make me dreamier afterwards though." He gazed around thoughtfully. "Yes, I have found that if I have hurt myself then the water heals my wounds if I bathe in it." He looked at Arwen and saw her positively not making eye-contact with him.

"There is something you're not telling me about this water, Arwen." He sat back up and watched as her cheeks turned a little pinker and she stared resolutely down at the water around their feet. A smile crept up his face at this. "I am afraid that you cannot hide it now."

Her voice was thin. "No, no, the water is fine, it will not hurt you."

"Arwen, I know that. But there is something else about the water, something which you cannot lie to me about. I know there is."

She did not reply. A plan came into Aragorn's head.

"So you don't mind if I just take a drink from the pool?" Arwen's eyes shot up in alarm as Aragorn took a smoothly curved rock from beside him and dipped it into the water.

"No, _don't drink it!_" She cried in fear, taking the cupped rock from his hands.

Aragorn smiled. "Oh, so there _is_ something you are not telling me."

Arwen flushed a deep shade of crimson and a lock of hair fell down to partly obscure her face. Aragorn soothingly drew it back and tucked it behind the point of her ear. She looked up into his eyes, chewing her lip.

"What is this? A blushing elf-maiden? Such a rich colour of red… I have never seen an elf reveal their embarrassment before…" If it was possible Arwen blushed even more and could not bear to hold his gaze.

Smiling kindly Aragorn delicately pulled the rest of Arwen's hair back over her shoulders so that it rippled down her back. He could feel her shivering at his touch. "You don't have to tell me if you do not wish to, Arwen. I do not mind if you cannot talk about it to me." His voice fell. "I still like you."

Arwen smiled and finally looked back at him. "Hannon le, Estel," she whispered breathlessly. As she gazed into his mystical grey eyes she suddenly noticed that they were flickering all over her face and even below, down her body. She felt so full of emotion her heart seemed to rise up and get lodged in her throat. Then a tender thought came into her head. Could it be possible that he felt the same way as she did?


	3. The Secret of the Waterfall

Chapter 3 – The Secret of the Waterfall

"Aragorn?" Arwen whispered. He looked at her so enquiringly that it made her veins blaze on fire. "Um, you said all those things about this garden, and you know everything I did, it is just… err… except _one_."

Aragorn's look thickened. "I don't know what I missed. I cannot remember anything else."

"No, Aragorn," Arwen tried to explain, "When you know what it is, you will never _ever_ forget it. You will not find it unless I show it to you."

She glanced away over the water. Then she gently slid into the water and it rose up her body steadily until it was waist height.

"Arwen, are you okay?" Aragorn's voice was full of anxiety, but Arwen merely started to walk through the water. After only a second Aragorn had jumped in and he waded after her. Even though he had known it would be warm, it felt surprisingly balmy as it lapped around his body.

He followed without a word, but soon he became increasingly worried. Watching Arwen's slim body glide through the water with her dress floating around her waist, he found her heading towards the waterfall. Still he did not say anything, even though the rushing sound became louder and they started to be hindered by tall ripples. It was only when they came so close that they felt spray upon their arms and faces that Aragorn finally spoke.

"Arwen, where are you going?"

Hearing a note of panic in his voice, she turned round. "Don't worry," she replied, but said no more and just smiled. Then she began walking even closer to the tumbling waterfall.

"Arwen! You cannot go there!"

She turned round again. "Aragorn, it is fine," she replied in elvish. She made to move forward but Aragorn leapt forward so that he was almost next to her.

"Don't go there, you will get hurt! Please!"

Arwen smiled. "We will not get hurt, just follow me."

But as she tried to carry on walking into the foaming cascade of water, Aragorn called out to her.

"Please Arwen, no! Please do not go there!" She looked back and saw concern etched onto his face. Concern. Concern for her. "Please Arwen, you will be hurt! I don't want to see you in pain! The rush of water is heavy and the rocks are sharp! Arwen_, ple_-"

"Shh…" She placed two fingers to his lips and silenced him. "Aragorn," she whispered, "trust me, we will be fine." Fear was still leaking out of his eyes.

"I do not want to lose you, Arwen," he whispered back.

"Estel, do you trust me?"

He nodded humbly. "Of course I trust you, Arwen."

She took his hand and enclosed it in her damp fingers. "Then just close your eyes and walk into the waterfall with me." She smiled lovingly.

But Aragorn was nearly trembling with worry for Arwen. He heard her call "one" and he closed his eyes, "two" all he could hear was the rush of the water and all he could feel was Arwen's soft hand in his, "three"

He took a deep breath as Arwen pulled him forward and he stumbled into the waterfall…

…and out the other side.

Aragorn felt the water raining upon him fade away, and the loud sound of the water falling down died into the background. Beside him Arwen stopped. Now he could not only feel her hand, but also dry stone beneath his feet, smooth and safe to walk on. Instead of fear he now felt curious. So he opened his eyes.

He blinked in surprise and his hold on Arwen's hand lessened. They were standing inside a lovely cave, small but dry, and also it had a kind of beauty, a touch of secrecy to it. In the centre of the floor was a stone circle for a fire, and up above, where daylight streaked down, was a hole, hidden from above by a veil of trailing green leaves. There were two ledges in the walls, perfect for sleeping on, and other smaller alcoves for placing things on.

Spinning round in wonder Aragorn saw the beautiful curtain of water behind him, hiding them from the sight of prying eyes. The silver beads strung on threads of the stream gave off dancing light, which glimmered upon the opposite wall and lit the whole room up in magical light.

Arwen laughed, and looking at her he realised he had a smile of awe on his face. She took him over to near the empty fireplace and they sat down, facing the shimmering waterfall. Now he could see on one shelf nearby a cup made from a large shell and a plate made from something grey and shiny. There were also sheets rolled up at the end of each bed.

"Arwen, how did you find this place?" he asked, "it is wonderful." He looked all around them, taking glimpses of many things, even stones that seemed to be multicoloured pearls.

Not receiving an answer he turned to Arwen. To his amusement he saw that she was trying very hard not to laugh out loud; she was shaking with silent laughter and there were tears in her eyes. Her smile was so radiant that Aragorn's focus was taken off the cave.

He was about to ask why, when he suddenly noticed something extremely odd.

"Err, Arwen, why are you not drenched?"

She just smiled and gave no reply. Even her hair seemed to have never been soaked with water. In fact she looked perfectly normal.

But then Arwen suddenly gave a huge intake of breath and jumped up in fright, with mortal fear in her eyes.

"Arwen-!" She spun away from him, gasping and with a hand over her mouth. Thoroughly confused and bewildered Aragorn looked down at himself to try and work out what had made her so stunned.

"I am not wet!" Aragorn plucked at his pale shirt and discovered it was bone dry. "Arwen, do you know why-?"

He fell silent as he glanced up at the elf. Standing over near the cave wall, she had her back to him, and was bent over as if consumed in great shock. Carefully pushing himself up onto his feet, Aragorn padded quietly over to her. He was filled with great concern.

"Arwen?" he whispered. Then he saw that she was struggling to breathe, and had one hand clutched to her chest, while her mouth was parted and her lip was trembling. Her eyes stared blankly downwards, but each had a tiny white flame burning in them – the unmistakeable white fires of shock. Aragorn could sense that she was desperately willing something not to be true; yet it was. Unbearable distress was flooding out from her body and Aragorn was moved with pity.

"Are you okay?" he asked her hoarsely, but the disbelief in his voice was open. Arwen seemed not to have heard him; but she was only half there, and she was too overwhelmed to be able to reply or even react to him. He saw her give an almighty shiver, and her whole body shuddered.

He questioned her more urgently. "Arwen, what is wrong?" He moved nearer to reach her, but she stumbled away, her breaths becoming shorter and quicker, and her dark raven hair slipping from behind her ear and falling down to conceal her face. Tenderly Aragorn drew it back, almost trembling like her in his worry.

He could not bear to speak as he revealed her face. Her fraught expression was heart-rending and in one sheer cut it threw all other thoughts from his mind. He knew she needed him, so empty and alone, and in that moment he felt her sense this. Slowly, her blue eyes swung up to fix on him, and a single, round tear escaped and ran down her pale cheek. She shivered.

"Arwen…" he moaned. This time when he reached out to comfort her, she did not withdraw, but collapsed into his arms, sobbing her heart out to his shoulder. It hurt Aragorn to hear this, it was agonizing, and he felt extremely aware of her incredibly thin and fragile body underneath his strong hands. He gently cuddled her to his chest, but Arwen's tears slipped so easily down her face.

"Shhh," he murmured to her. She leant in closer to him and weakly wiped away her tears, snuggling into Aragorn's warm embrace. But although Arwen wanted to stop, it seemed as if she was still too afraid to believe that something was true, and she kept on crying, and more tears escaped and ran between her long fingers. Her cheeks and forehead seemed deadly white.

"Shhh… _Arwen_…" He called to her as he held her gently. But Arwen cried harder, and her tears fell heavily and like a swollen river. With a thumb Aragorn kindly wiped under her sore eyes, but even as he stemmed the flow yet another burst poured out and trickled rapidly along his hand. He looked down and watched her as she sobbed to him, and his heart poured out to the elf-maiden.

"Arwen, come with me and sit down," he whispered, and taking her clammy hand he unravelled himself from her, and gradually led her to near the fireplace where the stone floor was smoother and more hospitable. He lowered her to the ground before bending onto his knees and sitting next to her. She looked so torn and yet still so beautiful that before he knew what he was doing Aragorn had her lying in his arms and was cradling her silken head.

Arwen took a sudden cavernous yawn and trembled. Blinking hard through her glassy film she gazed up at Aragorn, almost fearfully. The expression of the utmost loving and concern touched her right to the heart and she could not bear to look at his handsome face.

"Arwen?" he called her. Amidst knowing that he did not understand why she had been disturbed this way, she was sure he had just questioned her at the abrupt breaking of eye-contact. He simply saw straight to her heart.

"I'm sorry…" she managed to say, before looking helplessly to the side and leaning into the soft material of Aragorn's shirt. His hands ran down her hair and onto her back, creating trails that beckoned to her so unearthly.

His voice spoke to her like sweet music stilling the tower-high waves of a dark devastating storm. Her heart was still thumping insufferably from her shock. "Arwen, it is okay, you do not need to be sorry." He smiled as she stole a glimpse of him. More tears slipped onto his shirt and left dark patches issuing on the material.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" she repeated again and again in between her muffled sobs.

"Shhh…" Aragorn soothed. "Don't worry, everything will be fine…"

"No," Arwen sniffed, trying to meet his eyes, "I am horrible for not telling you."

Aragorn looked at her sadly. "Arwen, of course I understand if you cannot tell me why." He held her gaze and leant nearer to her, stroking a finger down her cheekbone. "All I want to know," he whispered, "is that you are happy."

She fixed her watering ocean-deep eyes on him and he looked back with a soft smile on his lips. She shivered. "Everything will be okay," Aragorn assured her gently, "do not worry about it. Time will work itself out on its own."

Arwen nodded and swallowing she glanced away, trying forcefully to stifle her sobs. Although her tears ran dry, Aragorn could see that was far from okay. In his lap he felt her becoming weaker and more tired. Her breathing was still unnaturally fast and causing her a vast amount difficulty.

"Would you like some water?" Aragorn asked her. He looked at her once more and noted with surprise that she was appearing fainter by the minute. A fresh drink could revive her, so as she nodded again he crept out from underneath her body. By her own accord Arwen lay down on the stone and followed his every movement with her trailing eyes.

Aragorn searched around for a glass or mug or anything that could hold a drink. He caught sight of a flat and worn wooden cup in an alcove, so he took it before looking for water. His eyes fell immediately on the waterfall at the cave entrance, so he leapt towards it as fast as he could. Gripping the wide shallow cup tightly he held it into the channels of water. The cool spray bounced up onto his face and he withdrew the wooden leaf, with the water rippling as he steadily turned to walk over to Arwen. His eyes flicked over the surface of the water to look at her; her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she looked incredibly faded. His pace quickened.

When he came to Arwen, Aragorn bent down and knelt beside her. Her eyes feebly moved up to focus on him. With a spare hand he helped her sit up, but she felt so vulnerable that he edged round so that he could support her. He placed the flat cup to her lips and tipped it upwards. The water ran into her mouth and she swallowed, her eyes longingly on his, and drank all of the cool liquid.

Aragorn put it to the side and lowered Arwen back down. She smiled at him and his fingers fondled her ebony hair. When he smiled too she sighed deeply and gently closed her eyes. She did not open them again, and her breathing spread out into a slow rhythm. Arwen had fallen into sleep.

Almost immediately as he saw this Aragorn gasped and realised what he had done. He had given her the water from the waterfall, and she had drunk it. The water which she had charmed. The water which contained Arwen's magic.

His eyes fled back to her face. But it was calm, light and dreamy. She was asleep, but dreaming, not in a deep slumber. Then Aragorn found himself watching her closely, and he began to love more and more the peaceful expression upon her face. She was unbelievably beautiful, with her delicate but incredibly attractive features, and he had a sudden desire to move closer to her. So he did.

Now Aragorn was so close. He was near enough to see every last eyelash, to see her defined eyebrows, and the locks of wonderfully dark hair which tumbled down and softened her face. His eyes swept over her smooth pale skin, yearning to be touched, and making his fingers tingle. His gaze ran down her fair face, until he saw her magenta lips.

She was beautiful. _So_ beautiful.

Aragorn kissed her. He felt the heavenly touch of her lips against his, and he softly pressed to them, unable to resist the wonderful sensation shooting right through him. His sudden rush of love poured into her, and the kiss he gave was so tender and heart-calling that Aragorn wished Arwen was awake to remember this stirring moment.

Breathing silently Aragorn drew away, and sighing he leant upon his arm so that he could still watch her. The sweet taste of Arwen's lips still lingered on his, and he could smell the flowery scent which swirled around her body. He had loved the wonderful feeling, he had loved it so much, so close to Arwen…

Arwen's eyes flickered open. He held his breath. Her gaze fell upon him and she blinked before smiling… she looked so pretty. Holding his grey eyes, she turned her hand over on the stone floor and touched fingertips with him. But then suddenly, as if she realised something, Arwen blushed; she blushed bright scarlet colour, redder than roses, hotter than fire. Arwen had realised what she had just dreamed.

She had dreamed of kissing Aragorn.


	4. Butterflies Bewitched

Chapter 4 – Butterflies Bewitched

That evening when Aragorn was back at the House, Elrond was walking through the entrance hall when he caught sight of him. The young man was in the midst of a fairly large group of young elves, all laughing and pointing at him. No wonder, for he had a flock of multicoloured butterflies all dancing around him and twitching as they landed on his dark hair.

"Aragorn!" Elrond called, with a frown on his face. He turned and left his friends, coming slowly up to the elf-lord. "Aragorn," he repeated, but more quietly. Then he was suddenly lost for words "err… why?"

Aragorn smiled. "I do not know, Ada," he replied. Just as I came back I realised that the butterflies were following me, and they will not go away." Aragorn felt unhappy as he said that, for they did not annoy him, rather he loved them; and they were quite amusing too.

"Hmmm… talk about 'following'." Elrond looked at the butterflies with narrowed eyes. About twenty of them were fluttering quite contentedly about Aragorn, showing off their pretty colours and flapping their luxurious wings, as if trying to impress him.

"Aragorn, I need you to come with me," he whispered. He led Aragorn around the corner and out of sight from everyone else. Obediently he followed and allowed Elrond to stretch out to one of the butterflies in the air. He saw it quiver somewhat unnaturally and then flee to him, joining the others very close to his head.

"It is as I feared," Elrond murmured. He looked at Aragorn. "These butterflies have been charmed to you."

"What?" Aragorn exclaimed, "Someone has charmed them to _me_?" Elrond inclined his head. "But _why_? Why would somebody do that?" He eyed one of the butterflies suspiciously.

"Do not worry, my son," Elrond laughed, "they are not done by evil magic, and you will not be harmed. Let me see if I can remove the spell. Stay still now." Aragorn watched as he held out his hands on either side of his head and closed his eyes. He muttered a quick counter-curse in elvish under his breath, and then looked up to see if anything had changed. Nothing had. The butterflies were still attracted to Aragorn, and he himself felt dimly sleepy.

"Right…" Elrond mused. He tried again. "I release you," he stated in elvish. If anything the butterflies circulated round him faster, as if laughing at the elf-lord's attempt. He sighed in annoyance.

"Okay, you may feel a bit dazed after this, but I need to try to detach this charm, so just hold on." Aragorn nodded at the warning but was slightly alarmed. Then Elrond started to murmur long and low, like a tide of elvish words, clearly a form of the magic he was trying to do. Suddenly Aragorn felt an enormous temptation to close his eyes, to waft away in a warm breeze, to sleep… how nice would it be to sleep…

"Aragorn!"

He awoke as abruptly as if a bucket of water had been thrown all over him. Elrond was staring at him strongly but in concern, and he found that his knees were buckling from his desire to sleep, and he had a strange smile on his face.

"I am afraid the butterflies still like you," Elrond told him, bringing him to his senses. Aragorn gazed up and saw that the butterflies seemed to be infatuated with him, rushing around him and nestling in his hair like they adored him. Aragorn grinned.

"Let us try again," Elrond said calmly, though he was obviously being tested by this. With hands on either side of him again he began to talk softly again, leading a trail of flowing words around him and wrapping him up… in such a nice warm blanket… what a lovely idea to go to sleep… all he had to do was to close his eyes… and he would fall into slumber… and dream… so deep… so nice… just sleep…

Elrond suddenly shook him so violently that Aragorn thought that he would topple over. Bleary eyed he peered at his foster father, who was watching him anxiously and propping him up on his own two feet. He still felt extremely drowsy and could barely be bothered to stand up, but then a flurry of lilac and cream passed over his sight. He knew the butterflies were still there.

This time when Elrond muttered his elvish enchantment, it was not gentle as he had been, but strong and determined and there were fires in his eyes. They burned into Aragorn and left little marks even when his eyelids had drooped down again. But he did not sleep, for he felt as if he was being attacked by an angry wind and tossed and turned about.

Elrond's enchantment reached its climax, and his voice sounded in his ears as if he was roaring with fury, instead of humbly speaking. It made Aragorn's body tremble, and he wondered what was happening. Surely the charm would be lifted now.

The spell ceased and Aragorn looked at Elrond. He saw him focus above his head and then close his eyes before silently mouthing '_no_…' in despair.

For a moment it seemed as if Elrond was thinking very hard, and searching his mind for anything that could work. Then he opened his eyes. "I have one last idea. If this does not work then I do not know what will. It seems like every single thing has been done to protect this spell." He fixed sharply on Aragorn, preparing himself for this, and he avoided his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Elrond began to chant his spell, the words of the elven tongue enriched by his natural accent. He stared strongly at Aragorn, who, although he thought it was best that the butterflies went, was not entirely agreeing on setting them free. They seemed to remind him of something, something happy and something beautiful, but he could not quite put his finger on what, or who.

Elrond's voice became more forceful, and Aragorn watched him work with added determination. Inside himself, Aragorn laughed. He knew Elrond would not rest until he had got rid of the charm, but whoever had set it in the first place evidently knew well how he worked. If Elrond could not remove… well, who could? The elf who had performed this charm on the butterflies – and maybe him – must be exceptionally skilled and wise. He was intrigued to know who it was.

Elrond spoke the final word of his spell, and positively glared at the butterflies above Aragorn.

"It did not work did it?" Aragorn guessed. Elrond did not say anything but ran a hand tiredly over his eyes. Aragorn glanced up and saw the butterflies flap their speckled wings teasingly for him. How could he not love them?

"Aragorn, let me just feel the charm once more," Elrond asked. Aragorn nodded meekly, but honestly had no idea what the lord wanted to do. But he merely opened up his hands to the butterflies, which were terrified of him, and closed his eyes. By the changing expressions on his face, Aragorn worked out that he must be sensing some kind of aura.

"Ai!" He shouted suddenly in triumph, and his eyes opened and shone brightly. "It is simple. _So _simple. Why did I not see it before?" he added. Shaking his head he said to Aragorn, "All it needs is for the person who set it to come and take it away again." He smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I should have known all along. This charm has been so intricately made. There is no other way."

"Then there is no hope? We will not be able to take the butterfly charm away?" Aragorn could not stop himself from smiling.

"Oh, there are ways in which we can find the one who did this to undo it again." He eyed Aragorn and smiled. "Come with me. It is not wise to talk out here," he whispered after.

He walked a few paces down the corridor and then turned right into his room. Holding the door open he let Aragorn in, and then firmly shut it again. He motioned for Aragorn to sit down in a leather-skin chair opposite his desk, and he sat down behind it. For a while he watched Aragorn's butterflies as they flitted around him joyfully.

Sighing he looked to Aragorn. "Alas, my son, I understand the way of the charm, and who has made it. The essence of its maker is unique, so beautiful and delicate, yet so deep and cleverly made. I half wish I did not understand it."

"Then you know who it is?" Aragorn asked eagerly. But to his disappointment his foster father merely sighed and looked downcast.

"You must understand, Aragorn," he explained, "that you cannot tell who has cast a spell; you do not receive a name or an image in your mind of the one responsible. What you can however find, are clues to who has done this, for example the way in which they have set the spell, the way in which they work, and the way they have protected it from removal- as I myself have just discovered. By making a spell, you leave a mark of yourself.

"Now I have my suspicions about this, for I can see that the elf that has done the charm is very skilled, and works in an extremely detailed way. Everything has been thought of, and the charm has been beautifully set. Even I am, how do I put it, -ah yes, _secretly impressed_ by the craft here performed. Make sure not to tell anyone, Aragorn, but I doubt that I could have done a better job on this."

Aragorn looked grim. "Then you do not know who it is?"

"_Ah…_" Elrond said, giving him a very significant look. At this Aragorn felt something rise up inside of him. "Remember, my child, that I have seen the work of every hand in this valley, left and right, and I do not forget things willingly. Many elves here I have watched grow up from tiny infants. Like a fingerprint, a work of magic is recognisable of the elf who has done it. No matter how clever or how deep their knowledge runs, they cannot escape this revealing of themselves, dark or fair.

"And-" Elrond added as Aragorn opened his mouth to ask for the third time, "yes, I do have my guesses. You for one should understand that I treasure highly beautiful work, and once seen, never lost, they say." He paused and stared into the air, as if picturing some scene long ago.

"Well, that is good then," Aragorn said cautiously. "So how will you find the one who has made this charm? Could they release it tonight? Or does it take a long time?"

Elrond dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "No, no; even the most complicated knot of incantations can be undone in less than a minute. If I am right in my assumptions, all we need is t-"

There came a sudden knock on the elf-lord's wooden door. As it opened he flapped his arms and hissed to Aragorn not to mention in the slightest what they had been talking about. He marvelled how quickly Elrond managed to recompose himself to face the newcomer, when he alone knew that his mind was still solidly stuck on the matter of the butterflies and their mysterious magic.

It was certainly not who Aragorn had been expecting, not that he had had any idea who to expect as he remained blankly silent, but definitely not _Arwen_. She swept in with her eyes unmoving on her father, clearly not seeing Aragorn at all, her long hair which was down winding down her shoulders in waves and her dress moving with a faint swish. She seemed almost on a different planet. "Ada, I ca-"

"Just the person I needed." Just the person he needed?

Elrond interrupted his daughter in a meaningful voice, and a dry smile clambered up his face. Arwen paused, utterly bewildered, her face blank as a sheet of parchment. Raising his eyebrows Elrond flicked his eyes across the room, indicating to Aragorn. In surprise she turned to look that way, and her eyes fell upon him.

The butterflies were still dancing madly about his head and zooming happily into his vision and whirring past his ears. In that instance Aragorn deemed that she turned a faintly paler colour, a sickening trait of guilt bubbling up in her. Aragorn looked to Elrond, but he was still looking at him, and had obviously not noticed this. He glanced back to Arwen, and he thought he saw her eyes water pleadingly, asking desperately for him to forgive her.

With his eyes still on him, Elrond said, "Arwen, please correct me if I am wrong, but I strongly believe that it is _you_ who has put this charm on my poor unfortunate son." Blinking slowly he turned to Arwen. She continued to stare at Aragorn like she had never seen him before in her life.

Outside the open door a group of elves went past. A couple glanced in and caught sight of Aragorn and his crazily circling butterflies. One tapped the rest of his friends on their shoulders and the whole group turned interestedly round to avidly watch them.

"Please shut the door," Elrond said in a voice which suggested that nothing had happened. Arwen twirled round and pushed the door close. Her father sighed tiredly as if he was mortally bored and fed up with telling a young child off for an unnumbered time. But he also seemed sad that it was his daughter who had done this.

With his head wearily in his hands he said, "Arwen, please lift your charm before I have to force you to." Aragorn watched as she walked towards him and he leapt up as if scalded. But with her back to her father she smiled warmly and took his hand, leading him over into a corner of the room along with her pretty butterflies.

Out of the corner of his eye Aragorn saw Elrond following this with one eyebrow raised in open absurdness. Then Arwen moved into his vision and blocked everything else out. When he was trapped between two walls she leant right close to him, looking down to the side, and whispered, "close your eyes."

The last sight Aragorn had was of her bringing her eyes up to his and suddenly, unexpectedly setting his heart on fire and his whole body ablaze with passion for her. Then all went black. He felt Arwen find both of his hands and unnecessarily press herself firmly to his body. Aragorn could sense Elrond think that this was just ridiculous.

Arwen leant so close that he could feel her hot breath on his cheeks and smell it sweetly of honey. Then she began to murmur a long trail of soft slurred elven words, sending Aragorn off into another dazed sleep, so that he was quite apart from everything else, and drowning out of knowledge timelessly. Then-

"Arwen!" Aragorn snapped out of his dream and sneakily peeked out of a half-closed eye.

"_Ada…!" _Arwen shot back frustratedly, turning to glare at him. In this way Aragorn got to see Elrond, his nerve ends being stretched by the time that this was taking. For a moment the two elves fixed on each other, then Arwen's grip on his hands tightened and she began to turn back. He shut his eyes again. Arwen went back to speaking the words in an attractively low voice, but this time Aragorn managed to stay conscious. He still did not catch any of the murmured words, for maybe such was the likeness of counter spells, but he did hear one: "meleth". She had said it so lovingly.

But then suddenly Aragorn felt a wonderful lightness in his stomach as if he was shooting upwards and flying exceptionally high. Rainbows flashed into his sight and his eyes opened. Just in time he was to see the butterflies swoop over to Arwen, linger above her for a moment, then as she took one hand and blew over her palm, they flitted away out the window on her command, and out of sight. Elrond jumped up to watch their direction as they finally disappeared. Aragorn felt overwhelmingly relieved, although he had been rather fond of the friendly creatures.

"Aragorn, my dear come here to me," Elrond summoned gently. Swallowing, Aragorn pulled himself out of Arwen's grasp and slipped past her. Her face was pale. When Aragorn came to stand in front of Elrond's desk, he left the window and walked round the furniture to him. Holding his hands out on either side of Aragorn he checked to see if all of the charm had left.

"Ada, do you not trust me to remove my own magic!" Arwen suddenly called out, a little hysterically. Aragorn looked round at her; on the first glance she was just annoyed, but underneath all that he saw that she was hurt; a lot.

Elrond pursed his lips but decided not to retaliate. "My son, you are free to go." He gave him a smile, and Aragorn recognised it as a cue to leave. Without objection he went over to the door. Yet as he touched the handle he heard Elrond move quickly over to Arwen.

"What do you think you were doing!" he hissed to her. Aragorn opened the door as silently as possible, knowing that he should not be hearing their conversation. But he was extremely tempted to hear more.

"…putting a charm on Aragorn!" He heard Arwen's young soft voice tenderly speak.

"I did not mean to Ada!" she pleaded desperately.

"How can you not meant to!" Elrond exclaimed, not harshly, but almost out of grief. Arwen tried to reply but he cut in again. "You will apologise to Aragorn at first chance tomorrow, whatever your excuses. And do not look at me like that!..."

Aragorn swallowed as he closed the door behind him. He thought that he had listened to quite enough of his foster father's and Arwen's argument to be deeply intrigued by the results of his eavesdropping.


	5. Arwen's First Dream

Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed, it means a lot to me! Hope you like this chapter, if you don't understand it much now it will become clear later. Enjoy! ; )

Chapter 5 – Arwen's First Dream

Arwen was sound asleep when her mind began to drift in the night breeze. It carried her dreams every night but something felt different this evening… lovelier. She saw stars twinkling above her, and then the silver boughs of trees passing over the sky. Looking down she found that she was in a beautiful wood. There were many spaces under and the trees, and she saw that nearby there was a glade that shimmered in the light of the moon.

She began to walk slowly through the long silver grass, her beautifully long dress trailing behind. Pausing by a little pool she peered interestedly down. She herself had to admit that she looked exceptionally attractive clothed like that, and her thick, luscious ebony hair was entwined with glassy threads. She met her own eyes, watching her in the water, and they glimmered a deep blue.

Something stirred nearby and Arwen glanced up. She discerned that someone was walking through the trees to her, but they were trying to remain hidden, and were succeeding. Smiling she glided over the ground towards them, deciding that she would met them before they reached her.

Strange mists twisted down from the velvet midnight sky, and they shimmered silvery-white in the cool air. When she walked through them, she heard the wonderful sound of delicately plucked harp-strings, and the rain hung around her. Like crystal jewels they were caught still at her gaze, and yet more of the mists twirled down from above.

Arwen reached up to touch her hair, and found the jewels had fallen there and settled like snowflakes. As she passed through the world of mist, she felt so happy that she could laugh, and she felt a love rise up in her that she did not recognise ever having before.

She heard a cautious footstep beside her, and she turned. There striding slowly to her was a man, and she felt her heart thump with elation inside her. She was not quite sure why, but as he passed into a beam of moonlight pouring down from a gap in the trees, she saw that he was immeasurably handsome, and he watched her with deep adoration in her eyes. Feeling herself smile shyly she walked backwards and came to rest against a tree.

The man followed her closer. His eyes were such an enticing colour, and they stirred her as if she was meant to remember something. His brow was crowned with a silver garland, and it had seven tiny stones set in it. On his lips was a gentle smile, and suddenly there was no doubting that he was in love with her.

He was clad all in silvers and greys and blues, just as she was, and the world around them was the same too. She felt at rest, so peaceful, like she had never felt before. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, feeling her happiness echo through her body. It seemed like heaven.

Then Arwen sensed that the man was very near to her, and she slowly opened her eyes, accentuating her long eyelashes temptingly. He laughed softly and she smiled, she smiled as if they had not a care to worry about. He stopped just in front of her and for a moment she just gazed into his eyes. She had always been fascinated by them. And she recognised them too.

He gently strung his arms about her slender waist, and she felt herself shiver at his intimate touch. But she was surprised when she herself slid her arms around him, pulling him so close that their bodies were touching. The man smiled lovingly and washed his gaze all over her, making her feel extremely special. She found herself desiring his attention, longing for his affection. He met her eyes and he took her away inside his.

And then Arwen did not know how it happened, but she was kissing him, and she was overflowing with love for him. It was right there that she knew she loved him, and her heart would only ever be full and whole if they were together. His kiss was so tender that it touched her soul and she loved him even more for it.

She drew away and slowly looked at him. She smiled amorously, as if she was deeply in love, and she took one hand to fondly stroke his rough cheek. But her gaze was diverted, for she saw on her finger was a beautiful silver wedding ring. Arwen looked back at the man in surprise. He smiled and then as she began to sink away into deeper sleep she suddenly recognised him.

She was married to Aragorn.


	6. A Shower of Petals

I just want to say thanx to everyone who has read this story so far, and I would appreciate it so much if u would review and give me your views on how this is going. Here's a sweet chapter for you!

Chapter 6 – A Shower of Petals

Arwen ran through the wild gardens, lime green and rich emerald leaves flashing around her as she fled. Her gentle hands shielded her eyes from scratches, and she ran as fast as she could. The slim form of her body flickered through the tumbling colours of the blossoming gardens, slipping over the soft grasses, lighter than a deer and swifter than a panther.

She was so happy that she Arwen ended up almost skipping past the wild beds of flowers, the long sleeves of her deep red dress which fell from her wrists rippling like water, and the hem around her feet trailing behind over the dry ground. Around every turn she strained for the sight of one person who was causing her all this joy and excitement, murmuring his name under her breath; and she became not far from desperate to reach the man she had seen sitting under the tree.

Then finally, coming through a curtain of ferns and tall daisies, Arwen saw ahead of her, down a narrow path of natural unkempt lawn, the small figure in the shadows. Leaping with joy Arwen called out to him.

"Aragorn!"

She moved even quicker now, anticipating the pleasure of being in his company, and filled with the exhilaration from her rush to reach him. She saw his long sun-golden hair slipping from behind his ear as he read a book which lay in his lap. His agile body was clothed in a light blue shirt, with sparkles of silver entwinements, and the rest of his garments were either midnight blue or dark violet. His hand turned over a page with care.

"Aragorn!"

Arwen now ran forward the last distance, swinging the basket, unable to withhold her sudden bursting explosion of excitement. The young man looked up at the sound of his name, scrambling hurriedly to his feet as soon as he saw who had called him.

"Arwen…" She halted just in front of him, a healthy pink colour in her cheeks and her whole face shining with a brilliant glow. A huge smile was on her lips and she almost felt like laughing she felt so happy to find him.

"Aragorn, I'm so sorry about the butterflies yesterday. I forg- I did not mean for them to be such a nuisance to you. You should have found me first."

Aragorn laughed. "A nuisance? No, I did not mind them in the slightest. They were such beautiful butterflies – the pinks, blues, purples, yellows, greens – I loved having them around me. Your Ada was not as impressed by your skilful magic. He could do nothing except wait for you to come and lift the charm. But surely you did not come all this way just to apologise?"

Arwen smiled broadly at his flattering. "Um… no, actually… I was hoping I could… mmm… maybe… talk to you?" she ended in a timid question.

Aragorn smiled gently. "Of course," he murmured to her. "Thank you." He met her eyes and once again Arwen blushed.

"But… oh no…" a sudden problem occurred to her and stormed her hopes. Aragorn seemed deeply concerned. She looked at him. "I have been helping Ada in the orchards, picking fruit for our pies at this evening's meal. He thought I might as well help, seeing as I could not find you all morning. He said I could find you this evening. But when we came I saw you reading under the tree. And now Ada thinks I am still there, just out of sight. If I do not go back with anything perhaps he will be somewhat annoyed."

"Do not worry," Aragorn replied, his eyes showing his understanding and he smiled at her story. "Sit down for a while. You deserve it. I can pick some blackberries for you. There is a long hedge full of them all along this pathway."

Arwen bit her lip. "Are you sure? You should not really… don't-"

"It is fine. I do not mind at all." He watched Arwen coyly sit down on the grass and fold her dress over her legs. Gently he took the basket from her hand and made to go over to the scratchy clump of brambles not far from where she stood. But Arwen then noticed Aragorn sliding his book suspiciously behind his back, trying to put it down behind the tree trunk so that she would not see it. Arwen was intrigued by why he was hiding it from her.

"What book is that?" she asked, clearly breaking his hopes that she would not see that he had been reading. Cautiously he brought it out, and came slowly back to her acting rather wary. He kept a couple of fingers in between some of the pages, marking where he had come up to.

"It is the Lay of Lúthien and Beren … my favourite tale." Before Aragorn could say anymore Arwen had slipped the manuscript from his hands. She made sure to keep his page for him, but she was also very keen to see it for herself. With another shy glance at her Aragorn left and went to pick the blackberries for her.

To Arwen the book certainly looked old and well-used as she scanned her eyes over the front cover. There was some attempt to keep it flat, but the bottom corners of all the pages were turned upwards and many were bent all over the place. She felt crinkles over the outside and, as she flicked through, the front few leaves slid downwards and she had to catch them before they wafted down to the floor.

Smiling, Arwen now examined the front illustration in more detail. Two golden trees at the sides in the foreground framed the more delicate painting in the middle. A high waterfall rushed down a huge drop from a rugged but rich landscape. Dark green trees coated the moonlit land and scattered pools were spread around the black floor. But up in the distance, silhouetted against the blue sky, were two tiny people sitting together on a single paused horse. Beren and Lúthien.

As she thought this Arwen shivered, but she did not understand why, yet she felt something stir in her heart. She decided to watch Aragorn to take her mind of this. But then she wondered why he had seemed a little unhappy to show her the book. Was he embarrassed? No, that could not work… could it? She looked back at the manuscript before placing it on the grass, downwards so that it would keep his page. But her hold was too loose and it slipped and bounced onto the ground, falling quite clearly on a different page.

Feeling curious, Arwen checked that Aragorn was not watching. He was completely unaware of what she was doing. Then, now acting self-consciously, she carefully picked up the heavy book. Turning it over, she examined the yellowed-leaf.

Immediately she gasped and dropped the book on the grass.

"Are you okay?" Aragorn called to her, having heard the quick commotion. Arwen nodded, caught by surprise, and watched him turn back furtively.

She still could not believe what the words imprinted into her mind still read. It had been a very tender meeting of Lúthien and Beren, after she had saved him from Tol-in-Gaurhoth (the Isle of Werewolves). She had loved Beren so much that she had risked her own life against Sauron so that she could free him, and now they were together, at last… and of course Beren had fallen in love with her again so deeply, that they had kissed…

Humming, Arwen turned to watch Aragorn. It had been obvious that he had not lied to her, and thus it was even more so that this was the place in the whole lay which he liked most. That was fine. She gingerly picked up the book for a second time, now flicking through the pages. Although it always fell open on the same page, there were definitely others which looked incredibly well read and fingered.

Placing the book down again, she noticed that Aragorn's basket was very full of the succulent berries, and he paused before deciding he had finished. She jumped up. Smiling he walked over to her, and laid the basket down in the shade.

"Thank you very much," Arwen said. Her voice dropped. "You are very kind to me, Aragorn."

He sighed after meeting her eyes, and then stooped to pick up his book. Seeing this Arwen found her heart beat suddenly in her chest. "It is nothing, Arwen," he replied. "I am happy to. Really."

He gave her a look and then slowly began to walk out into the sun. Arwen followed closely by his side, wondering what he meant. She watched him nervously as he frowned, and his eyes roamed over the opened double page of the Lay of Lúthien, unexpectedly realising it was not the one he had just finished on. An expression of misunderstanding passed over his face, for he had been sure he had left it in the right one. Arwen held her breath. Would he assume she had done it?

But Aragorn closed the book and held it down to his side. Arwen, after the first wave of relief, strangely discerned that he never once looked at her when finding out that the page was different. Did he trust her more than himself?

"Arwen?" she looked up at her name, "Where would you like to sit?" Her gaze travelled around the cosy surroundings, the vivid blue sky and the hazy clouds, down to the shimmering trees with their feebly fluttering leaves, and then over the grass and the odd stones and purple flowers.

She smiled beautifully at him. "Wherever you like, Aragorn. I think here is fine." He agreed, acting very courteously around her, watching her amiably, taking her hand and helping her sit down on the most cushiony tuffet of grass for miles around, then sitting silently beside her before brushing a stray petal off her shoulder.

Arwen giggled as he did this, and he placed the pale pink petal in the centre of her palm. It tickled her, and she took the petal, rubbing it soothingly between her fingertips, and put it lightly on his chest, accompanied with another smile.

"I think it suits you better!" Aragorn laughed, and stretching out to a bush next to him, he swiped his hand through, scattering a million little petals like pearls into his hands. Then in one puff, and a look which could melt an iceberg, a whole shower fluttered down around her, like a picture from a fairytale dream.

The petals landed all around her slim body, and stayed upon the luscious curves in her velvety dress, and immediately skittered off her hands; but in the way they rested like fresh morning dew drops in her ebony hair, and ran past her delicate pointed ears, and balanced on her nose, she looked so beautiful that she could easily be one of the Valar who dwelt in the Blessed Realm.

Arwen moved slightly, nearer to Aragorn, and a wave of hair slipped out from being tied back, and fell forward past her cheek. She looked at him shyly as a few more petals flurried like snow in the air among them, framing her eyes like an elven princess.

Aragorn leant forward to gently fondle her stray lock of hair. She found herself edging closer to him, almost able to feel his loving touch as he ran his fingers over her silky hair.

"Some say that you are the fairest maiden to ever walk this earth…" he mused quietly. Arwen self-consciously glanced away, unintentionally bringing her long dark eyelashes to Aragorn's attention.

"They say that without really meaning it. They do not know me inside," she replied humbly.

"But nonetheless it is true." He looked directly at her. Arwen fiddled with a blade of grass. There was no reply.

Aragorn smiled, but as she saw this she found that it was not one of knowing that he had been right, it was one of loving and high regard. She shifted herself more comfortably, her hand falling into his palm and her leg firmly resting against his thigh.

"Someone can only be called beautiful if you can touch their soul," Aragorn murmured, seemingly to himself. He did not appear to mind Arwen's unexpected movements.

"I am glad that you understand that too," she whispered, drawing in his gaze, "for no one else I have ever met believes it. Only me… and-"

"-me." As he finished her sentence Aragorn smiled, a reflection which she did at exactly the same moment, as if they were one, linked.

"You already know me, Aragorn," she whispered. "You seem to know me better than anybody else I know. You know even know me better than Glorfindel or Ada. It is strange, but I feel it within me." She watched Aragorn, as he stared downwards glazy-eyed. He did not say anything, but she could almost hear his voice in her head: 'Arwen, me too.'

After a soft rest he looked up and he saw something gentle stir in her eyes. Before either found words to say Arwen laid her head on his chest and brought them into a light embrace. Aragorn then slid his arms round her body, barely daring to touch her in case she should shatter like glass, and lifted her into his lap like a young girl.

She sighed in contentment and he saw her close her eyes. Her fingers tenderly stroked the backs of his hands, tracing wavy pictures. Aragorn too shut his eyes and he rested his head on hers, with his rough cheek nuzzling to her. Their peace was one which could never be likened to anything else in Arda and they were immovable, just comfortable to be near to each other.

What could have been an hour passed yet it seemed far too short. Aragorn stirred, his eyes fluttering open from his dreams. Extremely comfortable in his hold, Arwen snuggled deeper into his arms. Aragorn brushed his face over her glossy hair, willingly letting the full sweet scent envelope him with the power as if it was alive and he could touch it. Her silken head had grown wonderfully hot in the sun, and it felt heaven to slowly rub his skin over it.

She then opened her eyes and Aragorn could see from this angle the flickers of her eyelashes, with the yellow sunlight dancing on them. He smiled to be so close to her, and she sensed this against her. A peaceful smile then played on her face, and she entwined her fingers with his.

Quite suddenly directly ahead of them a whole chorus of birds set off a loud clangour as they shot up into the sky, shaking the topmost branches. Their squawks rudely disrupted the still atmosphere and their angered calls shot out into the contrasting sky. Shocked Arwen sat bolt upright, parting Aragorn's arms. He also was startled, and looked around worriedly for a sign of anything being wrong. There was a disquieting and unnerving silence.

"Aragorn?" Arwen called quietly to him. He answered by taking her hand. Her voice suddenly wavered. "What was that?"

Swallowing, Aragorn focused on the trees which had been disturbed. Abruptly a second upset of birds happened, loud, piercing calls which eerily darted through the disturbance. The blackbirds and flocks of tiny hedge birds screaming flew over their heads, straight from a clump of trees a few metres nearer than the first.

"Stand up!" Aragorn commanded in hushed tones, his eyes flitting about unsurely. Arwen jumped up, and as soon as he had she drew to his side, afraid for protection. Then they just knew someone was coming for them, coming from over where Arwen had walked through earlier. They held their breath as one.

Then a figure emerged from the undergrowth. A tall dark elf with a high brow.

"Ada?" Arwen whispered to Aragorn, looking up at him in slight confusion. He nodded.

Lord Elrond called to her. "Arwen!"

She glanced once more at the man beside her, who returned her gaze, before spinning round and walking back to find the basket with the blackberries inside. Arwen turned away from him and towards her father. He was carrying something which gave the impression of a tray.

"Arwen!" He came nearer and she saw him smiling at her, but she felt for the first time ever a little resentful for his coming. Deep down she knew it was because she was disappointed of her loss of a perfect moment, but then she too smiled, although only out of politeness. Just then Aragorn came up behind her.

"Ah…" Elrond nodded to him and smiled warmly before acknowledging his daughter. "I see you have company." She nodded.

"I brought you some bread and honey," Elrond continued to say to Arwen. "I found you had left not so long ago for a well-earned break-" she shot a sideways glance to Aragorn "-and so I thought you might be hungry, and tired of course." He handed the tray with the white plates and perfectly cut bread to Arwen. There was an enticing aroma of thick, creamy honey.

"I daresay you could share it with someone." He motioned to Aragorn again, giving him a wink, a followed with a smile to Arwen.

"Thank you," she said meekly, avoiding his eyes. To her surprise Aragorn did the same, giving thanks as well as not looking at him.

"Well, I cannot let my people starve," Elrond said. "But where is your basket? You left none behind. Surely you picked something, my dearest?" A tiny flame arose in his voice but his face was full of laughter.

"I have it," Aragorn replied quietly, drawing out the basket from behind him. Holding it out, he displayed the huge array of fruit. Blackberries were overflowing from the reed basket, pouring over the rosy pears and mouth-wateringly pink plums. The light caught on the blackberries' juicy outsides like shining dewdrops.

Elrond was clearly impressed. He took the basket. "Thank you, Aragorn. Arwen, may I remind you that dinner is at seven, and your maids would prefer you not to arrive with one minute to spare." Arwen blushed and Aragorn grinned. With a wave of goodbye Elrond swivelled round and headed back in the direction of the orchards again.

As soon as he disappeared, Aragorn turned to the elf-maiden beside him and took her hand. She had seemed to be in a dream, standing still and motionless, but as she felt his gentle touch she turned to him at once and smiled.

"Come, do not worry, Arwen," he murmured softly to her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "he did not see us together." Arwen stared at him, shocked that he had sensed her same feelings.

Yet when Aragorn smiled to her, and met her deep and longing eyes, she could not resist returning the loving smile which her heart was calling for her to do.

"There…" he admired, observing her all over. "Even more beautiful than before." He led Arwen into the shady place under the tall tree and they sat down together, the old gnarled roots curling around them. Dotingly he took the tray from her fingers and then offered her a plate with a triangular piece of bread with a sizeable amount of honey layered on top. Arwen beamed and rested her head on his shoulder, listening intently to the sound of his heavenly voice, and inhaling the powerful scent of honey mingled with his hair, which started off pictures of her and Aragorn together… close… very close…


	7. Arwen's Second Dream

Sorry this has been a few days, I've been back at school (suffering!). I hope it won't be too long before I put the next chapter up, so please keep on enjoying this: )

Chapter 7 – Arwen's Second Dream

It was early that night when Arwen crept into bed, but she was sleepy and had been thinking much about her meeting with Aragorn that afternoon. She could not help but keep on seeing his handsome face among the flurry of pink petals he had blown to her. She did not understand why this was happening but she did not mind. She was very happy.

In a soft breath she blew out the candle and slid down under the bed covers. Sighing pleasantly she closed her eyes and fell into darkness. And almost immediately she fell into a dream…

At first Arwen could see nothing, but then the black cover pulled back. Around her birds were chirping like whistle-pipes and canary-yellow sunlight of a stifling hot afternoon was bearing down upon the valley of Imladris. She recognised the grove in which she walked, alongside the river, winding lazily through the gardens. Towering apple trees spread their branches over her and down to the grassy banks, where many elves had flocked to catch the last chance of summer for the year.

She could hear the voices of her people enjoying themselves by the river, yet she was not inclined to join them. Hidden between the crinkled trunks she wandered by, gazing at the swirling eddies lapping at the mossy-carpeted land. The amazingly rich sky was near turning purple, and reflected down on the water so that it shone blue as if from within. The air was peaceful, but very warm and almost oppressive, for there was no faint breeze to stir the heavy air.

But then she caught a faint hiss of her name.

"Arwen!"

She looked hurriedly about but no one was there. She swivelled round fast but behind her the grove was empty; everyone was by the river. Then as her hopes plummeted unhappily she heard the whisper again: "Arwen!" so much like the sound of an insect that she could have easily missed it.

A silvery rope slithered down and hovered in the air just in front of her eyes. She was filled with surprise, and in joyful interest she craned her neck upwards to a massive apple tree laden heavily with pink fruit. Balancing amongst the thick branches was Aragorn. She broke out into a smile but before she could say anything to express her happiness he put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to be silent.

Then he indicated to the rope which he tied momentarily round a tree limb. She looked round cautiously, where the elves had no knowledge of her being there, and then took the rope in her hands. Within a few seconds Arwen had scaled the tree trunk, barely needing the rope, her feet hopping up the bark as if it was a firm stone stairway.

When she had nestled down in the hollow of the branches she watched Aragorn quickly retrieve the rope, and as he coiled it, it slid down as smooth as liquid. He turned to look at her, and she smiled. He sat down close by and they both peered down between the pale leaves.

"Nobody knows we are here," Aragorn whispered into her pointed ear as he followed her eyes. Indeed they did not, for Arwen saw elves laughing on the lawn running alongside the river, and elves swimming and splashing, and having tea and talking in the shade under the very trees a few metres away; but all were completely unaware of them.

She swivelled her eyes over to Aragorn, and he smiled slyly. She giggled and he stroked her hair back over her shoulder, sneaking an almost hopeful glance at her fair face and delicate lips.

His gaze became diverted and Arwen looked with him curiously down between the leaves and sun-golden apples. There was walking a couple, two elves with long blonde hair, and the man was whispering quietly to her. Arwen felt as if she should not be watching, but she had the unappeasable urge to do so. The maiden smiled and turned, her fingers interlocked with his. She muttered something back, and then the elf leant in to kiss her.

They were still like this for a short moment, frozen in time, and when they parted their faces were alight and Arwen recognised the gentle smiles of love. The elf wrapped his arm around her waist and they slowly walked away, to the trees out of sight of the large riverside groups. Seemingly unseen by nobody.

Arwen sighed wistfully, the heartfelt wish to be that close to someone. She knew who… but what was the chance? She drew back and turned to the young man beside her. To her surprise Aragorn had his eyes fixed upon her, but as soon as she looked at him he glanced away almost as if he was scared of her seeing this.

"Estel?" she whispered. He turned to her and lifted up his eyes shyly.

"Tancave?" (Yes?) he replied quietly, with a smile. Arwen said nothing, but in a meaningful reply she smiled lovingly at him, and a strange understanding passing between their softly sparkling eyes.

They lasted like this for a while, until a cluster of young girls ambled past under their tree, laughing loudly and chatting about the younger men in elvish. The moment was broken but the atmosphere certainly was not. Eyeing them Aragorn leant back and Arwen saw him take two rosy apples in his hands. He gave one to her and raised up his eyes. She laughed as she took the apple and she clearly gave him pleasure to see her so happy.

Arwen was astounded to see how bright and colourful the pink apple was, and all the hundreds hanging around her. Watching Aragorn start to munch his, she took a bite too. She wondered whether he had done something to it, for it tasted unbelievably delicious. The fruit was full of sweet juice, and it teased her taste-buds nicely. An appealing scent filled the air and the apple was most definitely the yummiest she had ever eaten.

That was saying something. She had eaten many magnificent feasts in her elven-long life, and being like a princess, the daughter of Elrond, she only ate the best. And Aragorn clearly saw this while he consumed his own, his eyes darting upwards over the glowing apple in his hand.

But, although Arwen knew he was watching her, and she could hardly contain her excitement, she suddenly saw him watch her far more intently as she licked the sticky juice from her lips. She smiled seductively, stringing up his delighted emotions, even though it felt so funny while her red lips were all syrupy.

"Tiro…" (Look…) he whispered to her, pointing down below for the third time. Right underneath them, on the opposite side of the apple tree to that which Arwen had climbed, her father Elrond was walking. When he passed directly below their snuggled bodies he stopped in his tracks and paused, looking around him as if he sensed their presence.

Immediately Arwen broke out into a fit of helpless giggles and had much difficulty in suppressing them. Grinning Aragorn hushed her to be quiet, but it made only her laugh even harder, and the excitement of almost being found together was drilling through her veins. Within seconds Aragorn too had been infected with the exhilaration and was suffering from bubbling laughter sprouting up from inside him.

Tears lit up her eyes and she could not believe how much she loved this moment, and the sense suddenly increased when for some reason Aragorn took her sticky hands tenderly into his. Huddling close to each other and shaking with nerves and ecstasy they watched Elrond below, the tension flying up as he looked around with narrow eyes. All he had to do was look exactly up wards and they would be found, sitting in each others arms amongst the branches…

With an enlarged frown Elrond finally gave up in a huff and started to walk off again. Arwen let out a huge sigh of relief and Aragorn grinned, edging so near to her that their clothes were brushing against each others'. She felt herself falling in love with the sparkles in his eyes, from the obvious attraction he was overcome with when he watched her smiling so happily.

A few locks of his dark hair slipped in front of his eyes, and smiling Arwen lightly touched his skin to wipe them away. As she did so, her touch seemed to have an unusual effect upon Aragorn, and his lips parted in a hot breath, his eyes dancing and his body trembling; and in the end Aragorn nearly fell out of the tree.

To apparently steady himself he placed one hand on the bough behind her head, but he was then therefore naturally forced to lean in. Arwen could not help but gaze while she could at all the wonderful features of his stunningly handsome face, so incredibly detailed and luscious at this blissful proximity. It merely made her want to be even closer and she yearned so desperately that she was trembling to lie in his embrace so affectionate that it always managed to envelop her utterly and make her succumb to his touch.

Just as the force of desire weighting down on her became so unbearable she noticed in stolen breath that his grey eyes too were dancing upon her face. When he found that she had seen this he smiled kindly and whispered "shhh…" He held her eyes and sent her heart soaring up to paradise as he brought the down most gorgeous kiss to her tender lips. His warm manly scent washed over her and the gentle sensation of his lips made her soul shiver within.

Arwen found herself in heaven from the intensity of the kiss, and the more she kissed him, the more she felt that this was so right, and the more she loved him (if that was possible). He seemed to reach far inside her, to touch her where nobody else had, and to be able to steal her heart like no one could ever do. When he gently massaged her lips as he made to move away, she felt him lick them, as if craving her sweet taste of heaven.

She let out a breathless moan as he leant back, but he smiled softly and whispered to her again "shhh…" Everything seemed to fade, to become locked behind a haze.

She felt him stroking her cheek and gazing into her eyes, and then he turned away. He cast down the rope and, plunging one more apple into his pocket, slid down to the ground. Arwen weakly moved forwards onto her knees, and then elegantly swooped down after him. He caught her in his arms and she looked up dreamily to his loving eyes. Gently he eased her to her feet and then took her hand. They began to walk away, every single thing now becoming obscure and indiscernible; yet as all her vision finally melted away, she heard Aragorn's voice one last time in her ear.

"Shhh…"


	8. The Evenstar of her People

Chapter 8 – The Evenstar of her People

As the sun finally dipped behind the hills in the west, a four-drawn horse-and-cart drew up outside the steps leading up to the House of Elrond. Except that the steps were no longer visible. Seemingly all the inhabitants of the elven valley had turned out to greet the return of their Lord and his daughter, and not one bit of space was wasted. Elf upon elf crowded round the halted carriage and the snorting horses, and still more folk drifted out like a dam let loose, eager for a view.

The coach door opened, welcomed by hundreds of cheers. An agile servant jumped down and immediately straightened up importantly, holding back the door. Out of the shadows within an elf sprang, one with long dark hair braided elaborately around his pointed ears, and lavish scarlet garments clothing him. He looked up and the crowd roared. Lord Elrond. Smiling, with sparkles in his eyes, and joy to be amongst his people.

Subsequently he turned. Two young elves jumped out one after the other, with unmistakeable dark brown hair and blue eyes, and long knives at their belts. They were the sons of Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan. Grinning they waved to the people surrounding them, glancing at each other and exchanging smiles.

Then with his back to everyone who watched, Elrond held out his hand, and a young female elf's hand elegantly closed around it. The onlookers all seemed to hold their breath and for a moment there was silence. But as the beautiful maiden stepped down from the carriage, holding up her magnificently embroidered pale blue dress, the crowd erupted like never before, and there were shouts of approval and screams of excitement.

She glanced up shyly and then instantly looked down again, tucking her deep ebony hair behind her delicate ears and her smooth cheeks turning rosy. When she reached the ground her dress fell around her like a crystal fountain, and she looked bashfully up at the people once more. They recognised her immediately. She was their Undómiel, their Evenstar. Arwen.

xxxxxx

Aragorn smiled as he took one last glimpse of her. She was still being flooded with flowers and beaming, bright-eyed people who had still not had enough of her, Elrond, and her brothers; whereas Arwen still looked very shy and meek from all the attention. Leaving the doorway and starting to walk up the hallway, Aragorn thought about this. She had always received wonderful greetings, but she was no more used to them as she was when she was three; or so it seemed like. He would not know. She was far older than him. But he had that little inkling in the far corner of his head.

But then he heard another sound, one which carved through the excited voices. Aragorn glanced back over his shoulder, for he thought it was running footsteps, and coming after him. Who would be hurrying at this time, and away from all the other elves? Aragorn strained for a sight of them, but he could not see anything over the other tall elf heads, so he turned back and carried on walking. Nobody else seemed to have taken any notice of the footsteps. They still seemed increasingly animatedly focused outside.

Musing in confusing and befuddled thoughts, Aragorn spun round again at hearing the footsteps again. Now he saw the elf coming towards him, but he could only tell it was them because of their fight upstream through the strong tide of people going the other way. He watched with interest as they squeezed past and then began running again, weaving their way through the gaps. It was only when they dodged round the hindmost group of elves that Aragorn recognised who it was.

"Arwen!"

She looked up at her name, and, seeing who had called her, ran the last few paces to him. Aragorn stopped in his tracks, and began to walk back to meet her. His delight mingled with puzzlement as Arwen glanced behind warily. After a few more moments checking, she turned nervously to Aragorn. "Where have you be-?" he began.

"Estel, I cannot stay," Arwen said quickly. She glanced to the side of him again as more people swarmed past to the carriage. "But thank the Valar I've found you. I'm sorry I could not see you all day."

He took her hand and she met his eyes sorrowfully. "I am really sorry Estel! Please believe me!" Her last sentence sounded so desperate that it was almost a plea. Aragorn smiled and nodded. Then, taking one last wistful look at him, Arwen pressed something firmly into his palm, turned, and fled back down the corridor to the crowd awaiting her.

xxxxxx

When Aragorn wandered outside a few minutes before eleven that night, the world around him lay as dark as if the air was black ink, swimming around him and over the gardens which stretched out from his feet. The air was quite chilly for a summer's eve, and he drew his cloak closer around his shoulders. He stood there for a moment, and then as if remembering something, took a small piece of parchment out of his pocket. He unfolded it as carefully as if it was a thousand years old and held it into the doorway of light thrown outside onto the stone steps.

Aragorn read it twice before putting it away again. He already knew what it said – he had turned it over again and again in his mind some many times that evening at the feast – but he just liked reading the familiarity in the words in that beautiful curving writing that belonged to Arwen. Each letter flowed into the next flawlessly, and the words tumbled down one after the other like crests of graceful sea-waves…

He hurried down the steps and then began to walk over the stony path, listening to the satisfying crunching sounds beneath his feet while the clear voices of the elves rang out from the house behind. After a minute he looked up at the small hill ahead. It was nothing more than a thick black silhouette against the cloudy night sky, but Aragorn knew it was the right place. He began to climb up the grassy slopes.

Just as the bell rang out for the hour before midnight, Aragorn caught sight of another outline before him. The slender figure of an elf-maiden rose up out of the shadows, and she stood with her back to him, her hair streaming out in the air of the cool breeze. Aragorn slowed down and instead walked towards her as stealthily as possible, not making a single sound. He even found himself trying not to breathe.

Aragorn crept forward until he was just behind her, and then he stopped silently to listen. Strangely enough she was trembling and her breathing was so loud he could hear it without straining at all hard. It would have made sense if she had just run here flat out. But she had been standing there all this time, hadn't she?

Aragorn reached out to her and his fingers touched her lightly on the waist. Arwen shivered so sensitively it was just as if a ribbon of the sensation rippled out through her body. With her chest heaving she gradually turned around in his arms until she stood before him. Aragorn watched her with interest, musing on what could have made her so nervous… or so apprehensive, that she was breathing so deeply as if she had just fled for her life.

Continuing to gaze at her, he saw through the gloom that her eyes were flickering up and down his body, until she met his eyes. Aragorn smiled, but Arwen looked just the same, just as pure and magical and exhausted. He wrapped his cloak around them both in hope to shelter her from the cold wind.

"Why did you want to speak to me?" he asked as he held her closer to himself. A few locks of her hair escaped and carried on fluttering around her face.

"I did not want to speak to you," she replied, her voice quivering too. "I… just wanted to be with you." She gazed up at his face in order to discover what his reaction would be, but his complexion gave away nothing until he leant in to whisper something in her ear.

"Then you shall have your wish." As Aragorn drew away they both heard some noises behind them. Spinning round, he saw some elves spilling out onto the lawn just below the house.

"Let us go somewhere else," Arwen whispered softly. Aragorn smiled in agreement and took his cloak off her small shoulders. Then he followed her down the other side of the small hill. At the foot they suddenly became enclosed in tumults of undergrowth and high bushes. They saw a dyke winding through the wild plants and a narrow bridge over it – only made of a few strips of rotting wood. It looked rather unsafe.

Murmuring to himself, Aragorn crossed over it first, safely travelling to the other side without hindrance. However he was not satisfied and walked over it again, adding a little jump in the middle. Apart from an odd groaning noise, nothing else issued from the bridge, and he deemed it safe enough.

On the far bank once more Aragorn held out his hand to Arwen. He saw that there was laughter upon her face as she took his hand, and she glided over the old bridge with not so much as a rustle.

"Hannon le," she thanked, beaming up at him sweetly. Aragorn smiled and they walked on together under the boughs of the trees. Arwen still held onto his hand though the land was perfectly safe.

Once they had started to climb up the side of the valley, they heard a burst of lively music exploding far down below. Arwen laughed softly as she caught some a few of the words the elves were singing. Before Aragorn even could ask there was a loud cheer as the elves laughed, a beautiful sound like the rushing of a fountain. Even when the chorus began unless you listened really hard the song just sounded like laughter, quick and bouncy and positively glowing full of nonsense rhymes.

As she giggled again Arwen started to break into a run, tugging Aragorn along too, and they scampered through the oak and beech trees until they came to a ledge way above the valley. Perched upon the rocks was a stone bench, carved so majestically it could have been created by nature itself. Arwen took him over to the seat and looked out over the House of Elrond.

"You can see everything in the valley from here," she said, as Aragorn tried to take in the whole view of the strange and yet beautiful shapes in the gardens. In the centre of his vision there was the glorious house, with the high arching roof and the tall bay windows. Lights twinkled like yellow stars from inside, and at the wide doorways beams of torchlight poured outwards. Tiny shadows of people swept to and fro in front of them.

Then there were the black shapes of the elves, dancing and leaping around the flickering firelight on the lawn. Aragorn could see the wooden instruments held in the elves' hands highlighted by the flames, while all the other elves skipped about in a circle, singing and laughing merrily.

Arwen turned to look at him, and he grinned as he met her eyes.

"No one will find us now," he laughed. She too laughed, and as Aragorn reclined onto the bench he pulled Arwen down with him too. Giggling, she leant against his shoulder and reached up to play with some pine needles on a branch hanging over her. Aragorn struck a flame and lit two candles which stood on each end of the seat. They were shrouded in a dome of milky yellow light.

"I am sorry I was so quick earlier," she said as they calmed down. "I just did not want anyone… you know what I mean… thinking about us."

"That is fine, I guessed that may be why." Aragorn stroked her silky hair down her back as they talked. "But you seemed more worried than usual. Was anything wrong?"

Arwen sighed. "N- no. I just… wanted to see you… a lot." She heard Aragorn sigh, peacefully.

"Also," Arwen continued, "I had to get back to Ada. I was already risking a lot coming to find you, and I had to go back to lead the way into the hall and talk to people Ada is friends with… but Aragorn; I do not want my father getting suspicious. He has already been acting strange recently. I do not understand why, but he seems unusually concerned, even more worried than usual." Her words hung in the air, awaiting Aragorn's answer.

But he was silent.

After a few more moments Arwen sat up to look at him. "Are you okay? You have gone quiet all of a sudden."

He looked down as if he had only just noticed she was there. "Yes, sorry, I am fine." His voice sounded distant and faint.

"Estel, you do know that you can tell me anything and I will keep it secret forever? I sense there is something troubling you. Is it Ada? Has someone seen us?"

"No; everything is fine. And of course I trust you Arwen. I would trust you with my life." He gazed at her before giving an exclamation. "Arwen, you are shaking you are so cold! Why did you not tell me?"

Arwen bit her lip but smiled as he pulled his fleecy cloak over her, but then she decided to lie down on the seat with her head in his lap. Gazing up at his face amongst the pine trees, she could not help but lovingly fondle one of his hands which rested upon her chest. She snuggled closer to him and curled up to keep warm. As she rubbed her cheek against his satin clothing Arwen said something which came out a little muffled.

"Pardon?" Aragorn questioned her. There were some vibrations which were unmistakable as laughter. "Nothing," she mumbled back.

He traced his fingertips over Arwen's pointed ear and she fell silent. For a while she just looked up into his eyes, which caught the firelight from the house below, and they were bathed in the happy music bubbling from the gardens. As the song changed into a smooth melody, Arwen closed her eyes.

Aragorn smiled. He was glad she had not questioned him further about Elrond, for he did not know whether the elf-lord was suspicious of where his heart had fallen. And if he was not sure then he would not bear it pointlessly upon Arwen.

Sparing her a look, he could not help but admire the beautiful midnight blue dress she was wearing. The sleeves reached her nimble elbows and then they were cut to tumble down like drooping leaves. The skirt of the dress was of thick velvet, delightful to touch, but the top half and the sleeves were of a satin material, swooping down into a low v-neck. This was embellished with tiny silver stars and strands, and these also danced on her waist.

At this point Arwen's eyes flickered open, and by his complexion she immediately noticed his liking for what she was wearing that evening. He was centred on her chest.

"Your necklace is outstandingly pretty, Arwen," he observed. As she looked up at him, she saw the exact image of herself lingering in his eyes. He was focusing in on the smooth stone pendant that hung around her neck. Shaped like a rain drop, with white and blue marbling running through the whole pebble, a few other tiny stones fell down from it on spider-thin strings, all delicate shades of colour. The necklace rested low on her bare chest.

Arwen watched herself in Aragorn's eyes. They did not move from there for a long time. When she shifted under his increasingly heated stare, which she found she revelled more and more, the candle flames blew out in a night breeze and the two of them were thrown into darkness along with everything surrounding.

"Arwen, are you okay?" He called to her. Both were unable to see, even Arwen. It was now pitch black and there was no possible way her elven-eyes, however sharp they were, could pierce the night to see Aragorn. They were completely alone. Just them. Together.

She smiled but although Aragorn could not see he heard her content breathing.

"Your people love you, Arwen Elelome," Aragorn murmured, half to himself, "you only had to see their faces this evening when you came back."

Arwen laughed softly. "You have the same expression on your face now when you are looking at me."

"How do you know!" Aragorn exclaimed, taken aback. "It is completely dark; you cannot see me!"

Sitting up Arwen drew the cosy cloak around her shoulders and held the corners in her long fingers. She huddled up to his chest and leant close to his cheek.

"But I can sense it, _Estel_," she whispered.


	9. Arwen's Third Dream

Chapter 9 – Arwen's Third Dream

Arwen sighed. Long and deep.

A smile crept to her face and she giggled as she felt the air in her heavily inflated chest tickle her unbearably. The air immediately rushed out between her lips like a strong dam broken through and the violent sensation made her giggle even more. Touching the slender necklace on her chest she forcefully pressed her face into the large pillow, stifling her laughs. For a few moments the muffled sound continuously echoed through, and then they wearily subsided. Slowly she rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling of her bedroom, a gentle smile still beautifying her face.

She thought about the stars just out of reach above the ceiling. She thought about the Evenstar; she thought about its fate, how it gleamed white like a pearl cast into the darkest ashes, and yet still caught everyone's eye, still beauty beyond recognition. She thought about how it would one day fade away and disappear forever. She thought about why. She was meant to be sad. But Arwen was happy. It was Aragorn.

The image of a band of Southrons in bare wood shone in front of her eyes. She was curious as to why she was there and what was happening. While she realised that she was being carried along amidst the fierce men, she discovered that her hands were bound and her captors' hold on her was like a vice-lock. Whenever one of the men with slits for eyes and vicious grins touched her bare skin, Arwen cringed and shrank away. They laughed at her. She saw their faces: streaked with vile black and blood-red paints all over their sun-browned skin, eyes glinting like stoked coals of a fire, bodies loosely strung with oddly woven armour. In their hands they held whips and spears, and over their shoulders were ivory bows and menacing spiked hooks. They knew she was frightened. And they were pleased.

Yet suddenly they stopped, and the men carrying her dropped her harshly. Arwen fell to the ground. Quickly she stood up, nervously flattening out her dress, and wondering what she would do if they struck her. But when they moved on her it was so fast that she could not do anything to stop them.

They pushed her hard against a rigid tree and before she could even think to try to escape they were binding ropes tightly around her body. In pain she could not hold back a whimper, but it was a mistake, for a tall man with crude face paintings and flaming red eyes cackled and roughly wrenched a gag round her mouth to silence her words. For a moment she choked, and the men howled with mocking, but then they left her helpless and alone, talking amongst themselves in their coarse-sounding language.

Arwen was not hurt, but just uncomfortable, with the bonds biting so close over her body, and she felt extremely self-conscious and bare like that. No longer was she afraid, but there was something which she desired more than anything else… to see Aragorn again. The tender thought of him drove all her fear away. She imagined so vividly how he would come and rescue her, and they would be free, together.

But she did not want to be seen like this by him, her figure so highlighted and her dress revealing. She would feel so nervous if he looked at her.

But how _she_ needed to look at _him_. Arwen could not decide. It was unbearable. And yet her mind was disturbed as she saw the savage men, in their feathers and strange wicker armour, all unexpectedly turn their attention on her. Their unblinking eyes stared at her ceaselessly and crept forward to make a single circle all around where she was chained to the tree. She was trapped. But not frightened.

Aching for Aragorn inside.

They now lit their flame torches, even though it was still white daylight, by passing the fire round in a circle, until it was sealed and they all in one step slid in closer. The odd lamps made their body-paints glow spooky colours and unearthly shadows fell upon their snarled faces. An echoic chant started up like a rising smoke from the dry ground and suddenly their voices were ringing all about her, cursed words winding around her like serpents and hastening to scare her. The sound was haunting and shook Arwen down to the bone.

But she was not scared. She was filled with hunger for Aragorn.

But suddenly there was a new harmonious cry uplifted above the others, from a different man, not far away, with a warm, pure voice. The Southrons were cut off and suspiciously turned their eyes in the opposite direction from Arwen, toying with their weapons and bickering over who would dare to disrupt them.

Yet first there was no sign. Arwen's heart beat rapidly in her chest.

And then a man leapt out of the trees and she saw the flash of a long sword, lashing out eagerly at the painted men. Immediately the angered Southrons swarmed towards him just like angry wasps, thrusting forward their pointed hooks; but the man fought them all off incredibly powerfully, and threw them down one by one in mere seconds.

There was a gap in the group of Southrons, adjusting to this new addition, and the man turned to ran straight for her.

It was Aragorn.

A couple of the fierce men lunged at him and he hastily dodged out the way, before hastily stabbing them as he ran by. Then with the men as ferocious as stirred-up wasps, chasing after him a few paces behind, he headed straight for her at top speed. The surprise filled her chest and her heart flipped over in a somersault. She tried to express herself and her love for him, but only her eyes could explain in her forced silence. When he reached her she saw his eyes flit down over her body and Arwen felt her heart quiver with such a nerve-itching feeling. She watched as he looked back at her, the pupils of his eyes dilating, and his face softened.

Gently he brought a hand up and stroked two fingers down the side of her cheek, running over her smooth skin and the white cloth, and down on to her chin. His touch was so affectionate and sweetly meaningful that made her even more desperate for him. Arwen knew that her eyes were betraying her, and she could see the loving recognition in Aragorn's eyes.

But the jeering Southrons pounced upon him, and Aragorn turned away in a lightning flash to be drawn into quick sword battle. Arwen watched with hope, when she saw two more Dunedain appear over by the far clump of Southrons. But as soon as she saw them, they vanished.

It was completely illogical, and still she heard their yells every so often, before they disappeared completely for a minute. She shook the confusion away and instead lingered on the look which had been in Aragorn's eyes when he had looked at her, for she could not bear to see him attacked so brutally. As many as six extremely violent Southrons were against him at once, and he fought them all. He was encircled, but he killed one and escaped, and with fury the irate men raised their bows and drew their arrow shafts.

Aragorn fled for his life behind a tree just before they let loose a whole volley of sharpened arrows, peppering the trunk so that after a slice of second it was no longer recognisable. Then Aragorn shot out from his hiding place sooner than they could shoot to him. Their strained cries filled the air as his strokes cut through them, and they despised his sword with the utmost black hatred and festering loathing. As he suffered under two muscly chieftains and threw them both off like a surging wave Arwen wondered with amazement how he could do all this - and would do it… for her.

The Southrons seemed so livid and angered that Aragorn was fighting them to take her back. They would not stop leaping upon him and nearly throttling him with their shields, but Aragorn had such strength or will power that he would not reside and he swung round in a circle, slicing their open skin and giving wounds which were deadly deep. He charged at them and stabbed them and hurled them down… until there was only one circle left.

They were angry. _Very _angry.

The seething Southrons with slitted eyes watched Aragorn as he momentarily paused. They were drawn around Arwen, and she could no longer see their faces, but she could see very clearly the potential in the needle-sharp arrows tight against the bow-string. If Aragorn moved, they would fire.

His grey eyes glided over them all, counting their number. Sixteen was a lot for him to fight, tremendously skilled as he was. He looked back down the line, and his gaze lingered on Arwen. As he looked into her blue eyes they began to water.

Then something strange happened.

Aragorn moved his hand up to place a finger to his lips, still watching Arwen. But because he did this, immediately she saw the Southrons pelt their arrows at him and she gasped into the cloth bound around her mouth.

Yet Aragorn did not get hurt, or even brushed by their cascade. He jumped forwards to the soily ground, diving under the arrows, before rising and charging energetically towards the deceived Southrons. Caught unawares he blocked their blows and cut them down, spilling their blood to save hers. Arwen saw the weariness on his face, and could sense his dwindling strength, but he would not give up.

Rapidly the chieftain sprang up behind him and Aragorn did not see in time as he fought the other Southrons. His sword scraped Aragorn's leather clothing and he let out a cry of anguish as he spun round to face the last of the evil Southrons. But he was not easily defeated. Aragorn tried again and again to strike him, until finally, glaring into his livid eyes, he kicked him and immediately swept his long sword through his body. Arwen saw not his face or his wounds as he fell, and for that she was relieved.

Aragorn rushed to her, faster than he had even run to kill an evil murderous Southron. Panting he halted in front of her, his eyes swimming dazedly over her. Then as his eyes met hers, his face softened significantly, and his complexion was love mingled with sadness and concern. Arwen felt herself mirror him perfectly, her heart pouring out like a river.

He cautiously moved nearer to her, and as if in slow motion Arwen saw him stretch out his hand and caringly press two fingers on her cheekbone above the scratchy cloth. The pressure made butterflies dance off and her tiny prayer was answered breathlessly when she felt his fingertips slowly begin to untie the tight knot in the cloth. He drew the coarse cloth off so tenderly that his light touch on her sensitive cheek made her pulse run through all her hot blood. She sighed and glanced down to see him pull the cloth away, hardly daring to look back up to him.

She fell inside his eyes, drawn in like a swirling whirlpool, out of the depths of time and sound. All she could see was him, she could see the flickering stars in his eyes, the forlorn affection which lay there, and she could smell his warm manly scent, rushing to her veins impulsively. His breaths like the sighing of the wind filled her ears, and the parting of his lips gave away the irresistible sign.

The one way to heal her. Just one kiss. To give her his innocent love.

It was heaven. And beyond. She was suddenly so whole, that the thought to be apart and not in this kiss seemed unreal, unliveable. The way he expressed his love was so delicate and like the touch of an angel, and the feeling would never leave her soul, it would never fade away; it would never be more than a memory… or a dream.

And when Arwen slowly awoke in the early hours of the morning before light, she could still powerfully taste the sweetness Aragorn on her tender lips, and the sudden remembrance of his gentle kiss inflated her heart once again.


	10. Arwen's Certain Song

Chapter 10 – Arwen's Certain Song

It was not long after dawn when Aragorn had awoken and been absolutely unable to sleep. So, rising, he silently stole outside with the plan to go for a walk. The fresh morning was desirable, clear and bright, and the pale sunlight shone down upon the cool land and lit up the dew like stars. On the steps Aragorn watched the birds flying from tree to tree and chirping happily to welcome the warmth of the day, and he wandered through the singing valley airily without much thought of where he was going.

The land about showed not a sign of any elves being awake yet, but although Aragorn loved their company, for once in a while it was pleasant to be able to do what he liked without any interruptions, however friendly. As he clambered up an especially steep path and hopped over a low rock wall, he decided that he would go to the garden of the waterfall and watch the sun sweep up into the sky before he made his way back to breakfast.

After walking through the woodland, a flock of white birches came into view at the end of the damp path. Aragorn made for this with his pulse suddenly quickening unnervingly; but as he did so, he heard something beautiful in the air. While drawing closer he discerned that it was someone singing, a young maiden with a wonderful voice. Her voice was like a nightingale, as pure and as flowing as a mountain river, and her words leapt out of the melody like dolphins jumping waves.

…_I see you watch the Evenstar_

_You do not see me, you do not hear me_

_You will find that your heart is swayed forever…_

And then Aragorn saw her, as he drew back a snow-white branch… Arwen, clothed in a crimson dress entwined with golden threads. She was walking slowly through the green sea rich with soft grass. He could not help but smile to hear her song and see her lean down amongst the grass. As she straightened up the sun caught on her dark raven hair, making it shimmer like a silky liquid as it ran down her slender back. She held up a delicate white flower, its petals catching like snowdrops in the bright light, and she continued to sing to it.

_Dreams are now flowing in moonlight_

_And the niphredil is blooming_

_I wonder if you know…_

"Holy Eru…" Aragorn muttered. _She can sing like one of the Vala_ he thought.

Glancing down at her white niphredil flower Arwen slowly turned to walk back past the pool through the thick clover-carpet. It was only then that she noticed who was standing there watching her in enchantment.

"Aragorn!" Her face lit up with surprise and Aragorn smiled. She ran to him like a fair-white banner carried in the wind. "How long have you been here?"

Smiling, and knowing why she asked, Aragorn replied caringly. "I heard you singing, if that is what you mean."

Arwen looked ashamed and paused, while chewing her lip and glancing up at him, afraid. "_No_, you _didn't_…"

"What is wrong? Arwen, you sing so beautifully that you could charm the whole of Arda to fall soundly asleep at your voice." He moved forward under the crystallized branches and took the flower from her hands, threading it through her hair.

She looked down timidly. "How much did you hear?"

Aragorn finished and gently turned her round. "I heard it all," he murmured.

"Why did you not tell me you were here?" she said quietly.

Aragorn gazed at her beautiful face, almost wishing she would keep speaking so that he could still listen to her heavenly voice. "I loved your singing too much to want to stop it." He sighed. "I really liked it, Arwen. Why are you worried about me hearing you?" He saw her squirm uncomfortably.

"You were not meant to hear it," she replied meekly and barely above a whisper, avoiding his eyes.

Aragorn just smiled.

"Err… Aragorn?" He smiled at his name. Arwen's voice suddenly fell lower. "Um, could _you_ sing something for me?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

"Sing?" Aragorn said immediately, looking terrified at the thought. "You would like _me_ to _sing_ for _you?_" Smiling Arwen inclined her head, folding her hands neatly together.

Aragorn seemed to have lost his footing very swiftly, and tumbled down an accompanying flight of steps. "No, please, Arwen," he begged, "I really think I am the wrong person to sing for you." He looked at her now despairingly.

"I disagree with you, Aragorn, I think I have found the perfect person to sing to me," Arwen said in her confident elven voice, nearly laughing at his fierce anxiety.

"No! Please, no!" Aragorn pleaded, backing away. Smiling, Arwen advanced quickly after him, and as she caught up, she suddenly stood so close that their clothes were touching. She fixed her eyes on his, deep, longing and passionate, burning far down inside him…

"No, please, _Arwen…_" Aragorn moaned pitifully, unable to look anywhere apart from her face, framed against the frothing waterfall.

Then she changed her plan and smiled as charmingly as a rainbow arching in the sky. "Please sing, it would make me happy."

"Err…" Aragorn was tempted to say 'you already are happy' but although he could see Arwen was teasing him to get him to sing, he was actually falling for it…he prised her fingers off his shoulder and held them in his warm hand… But then again, first he would tease her too.

"Okay, I will sing for you…" a smile crept up his face "…but only if you can catch me first!"

In that instance when he let go of her hand, Arwen made to catch him again. But grinning Aragorn leapt backwards and then ducked under the low fingers of the silver birches. He vanished with a swish of his cloak between the leaves and he glanced quickly back over his shoulder with a glint in his eye. Arwen was smiling playfully and she started to run after him without a thought otherwise.

Then Aragorn charged into the wide forest of smooth birch-trunks and ran sharply downhill, his feet carrying him away in the current. Air rushed through his lungs and his hair streamed out behind. It felt so exhilarating, and Arwen laughed with him as she felt it too. They were flying, and they were free, and they loved it.

Aragorn cut the way through the thin trees, and Arwen chased him in his wake just behind but gradually catching up. Her eyes were alight with the elation when he glanced back at her, his smile only too well expressing his enjoyment.

The bottom of the steep slope drew very rapidly nearer, and with it the end of the small birch wood. Aragorn saw a fence there and behind an orchard where Arwen had been two days before; but nowhere to cross it; and it was quite high. There were a couple of last trees, but no way could he climb their flimsy limbs and do that with enough haste. He rushed downhill, the power pushing him along forcefully, but he managed to slow down in order to get over the fence.

Arwen still carried on faster and faster, and the gap between them suddenly lessened. Aragorn reached the fence, and put a hand on the topmost beam to hoist himself over, yet after a moment he paused and turned round.

Running full speed Arwen crashed into him, placing two hands firmly on his broad chest and propelling him backwards to slam into the rigid oak post of the fence. Gasping for breath Aragorn looked up at her, with a slightly dazed look on his face; it had all happened exceptionally quickly.

But although Arwen was out of breath, she was positively glowing with the joy of catching him. Her brilliant smile switched Aragorn's appearance of exhaustion to one of laughter. Arwen moved closer, and her hands still pressed on his chest.

"Look who was caught, Aragorn," she giggled and he smiled at that lovely echo. "You know what that means…"

"I do," he panted in reply, "And I remember what I promised to do for you." He took a gulp of well-needed air.

"But _actually_," Arwen said, "I have changed my mind." This left Aragorn for a second blinking in surprise. Yet he heard a mischievous catch in her young voice.

"That is very kind of you, Arwen, seeing as you already have heard me singing. Singing of Tinúviel." he said. She flushed but after a split second continued to smile as if nothing had happened. This smile was a little too provocative and she still showed no sign of removing her hands from his chest.

"Instead, _Aragorn,_" and she looked deeply into his eyes and suddenly came over all shy, "you can be my _slave_ for today…"

Then for a moment there was a silence, a warm, tender stillness echoing between them, and Arwen suddenly felt a huge longing for Aragorn, and she held her breath. Trying desperately to read the answer off his face, she only found that Aragorn was managing to hide it extremely well. In truth he too had trouble restraining his emotion from portraying his reply, but Arwen did not see or know that.

Finally he spoke to her. "Yes, of course I will, my _lady_." His tone was serious but his face was highlighted with amusement. Arwen giggled at these words, but immediately pulled on a straight face as Aragorn lovingly took one of her hands off his chest and leant forward to kiss it. Afterwards, he glanced up at her, and there was an intense passion for her dancing in his eyes. "Then let me escort you to breakfast," he said.

"Lead the way for me, Aragorn," she answered. Taking her hand he guided her over to a gate he had spotted in the corner of the orchard and held it open for her. Smiling she went through and then they walked back together, passing through and to the watercolour green gardens this time.

They entered the realm of well-kempt gardens, under the picturesque view of the white House of Elrond, now shining in the sunlight. Bushes of red, cherry, violet, pink, peach, yellow, mint, lilac, and blue… all surrounding them and locking them inside a world separate to any other. Soon Aragorn had taken her deep within a maze of narrow paths, and he had her lost amongst the dripping blooms of the flowers.

The little stone path wound through the plants like a snake, and twisted and turned this way and that, branching off into a whole web of trails. Aragorn was forced to walk further on, and all Arwen could do to stop being gone astray was to follow him as close as she dared. Not for the first time the smiles he gave to her were joyous to her senses. He turned and walked on through the flower forest.

As she rounded the corner, the path between the bushes full of multicoloured carnations stretched out far ahead; but Aragorn was not to be seen. She called his name, a sudden wave of panic unusually enveloping her like a sinking black cloud.

But immediately he emerged from the flowerbed, smiling and shaking his hair back off his face, and producing a bouquet of carnations from behind his back, which he gave to Arwen. Her face melted when she saw them and when she looked up at Aragorn, he found her crystalline eyes welling with tears.

"_Estel… thank you,"_ she whispered, her soft voice truly showing how heartfelt it was. She sensed a hand lightly touch on her waist. "But… I… I did not know slaves gave their mistresses handfuls of flowers… and so lovely as these."

In her hands were pink carnations and white carnations and red carnations and creamy-coloured carnations, all with a scent so fragrant and delicate that Arwen was momentarily overwhelmed by love in all her senses.

"Arwen, slaves do not give their mistresses flowers," Aragorn murmured to her. "But some certain other people do."

And then, as she looked at him, she just knew what he meant… they were the certain people… who were in-

Aragorn smiled gently and withdrew his touch on her slender waist, leaving an irresistible trickling feeling on her tummy. Maybe he picked up on the forlorn longing she was shrouded in, for he said to her, "Lady Arwen, as your only slave I cannot afford to let you be late for your breakfast appointment."

That abrupt change from seriousness to mock seriousness made Arwen laugh. "Aragorn, you need not talk to me so formally!" She giggled as he now took her hand to pull her forwards. "Honestly, it is just a game!"

Aragorn turned to fix his unmoveable grey eyes upon her. Spotting the heat rise up her beautifully smiling voice, in his most dangerous voice he replied slowly, "YES, my _lady…_"


	11. Arwen's Fourth Dream

Chapter 11 – Arwen's Fourth Dream

Arwen yawned tiredly and rubbed her eyes. She was so sleepy but she could not stop thinking about Aragorn. She had tried closing her eyes, and snuggling down under the covers where it was dark, but he came back clearer than ever, smiling and laughing with her, holding out his hand. Her own was held to her chest, clasped tightly around her Evenstar pendant. It seemed to be that as she fell more and more into the realms of sleep, it grew brighter and brighter, and the warm love inside her heart flourished with every soft breath she took.

Arwen lazily fluttered open her eyes to see a world of snow. Snowflakes danced past her vision, sparkling as they meandered their way to the ground. There was an old willow tree not four paces away, down a little slope, encrusted with icicles and laced with snow, glittering as a glass fountain in silver rain. Its frozen branches just stretched out to prise at the gleaming pool below her, a thick sheet of white ice locking in the water tightly. Light from the snow bounced off its smooth surface and produced magical glows in the fresh air.

Reeds were bound by ice, and the very ground about her was coated in perfect snow. Arwen looked down to where she was sitting and through her blue dress she there saw her own rounded stomach, that she was pregnant. Shock soared through her body, but even more than that, an uncalled-for leap of love sent a tremor straight through her heart.

For there was one more thing. She was nestled in the warm arms of Aragorn.

Arwen felt as if she was in heaven, she never wanted this moment to end. Smiling with pure undying happiness she moved to look up at Aragorn. His wonderfully handsome face smiled back down at her, his eyes twinkling joyfully with bright stars. A sigh escaped her lips and he gently ran a finger down her cheek. His touch seemed to make her whole body overflow with love for him. She snuggled closer, rolling slowly onto her back, with her eyes gazing straight up into his.

"I love you, Arwen," he whispered with a smile, leaning forward to press a kiss down onto her nose. She giggled and put her arm around his neck, holding him there so that she could kiss him back. He pulled her up as their lips met, drawing her further into the kiss. For a while she just moaned in pleasure, while he cuddled her tighter to his body. Their hot breaths became mingled and steamed like dragon's smoke in the cool air.

"I love you… _Estel,_" Arwen breathed when Aragorn had finished kissing her. He looked into her eyes, but it felt like he was reaching right to her soul. Then he smiled gently to her and carefully their foreheads brushed together, while their eyes danced innocently as one like blue and silver butterflies. But gradually both of their eyes started to flicker downwards, Aragorn attracted to her full red lips, and gradually he moved down and met hers with his own in one gorgeous kiss.

Arwen thought she would burst with happiness she loved Aragorn so much. His kissing was amazing, she could not believe that someone could portray such passion in a kiss, and yet there he was, pouring his soul into hers, whilst her own love flowed into him. Aragorn's touch ran down her body, roaming all over her, sending her nerves on fire with the affection with which he held her to him. And when he ran his fingers lightly over her round tummy… she knew that the love they shared was true. Even if nothing else would, then their love would last forever.

She heard Aragorn's amorous breaths softly rush past her ears, and her eyes quivered open, watching with open-armed love as he laid kisses all over her body, blessing her with his heart. At last he sensed her heated stare, and he looked up at her with one expression which could kill the whole of Middle-Earth.

Nothing resisted Arwen when she tilted forwards to kiss his tender lips. And nothing resisted her from expressing her love to him.

Carefully, still holding her in his strong arms, Aragorn lifted Arwen up from the ground and stood her in front of him on the snow. Unknowingly Arwen looked up from her sweet kiss and she saw the moving effect of her deep sapphire eyes. His expression of submission barely changed, but, if only from his eyes alone, or maybe it was his touch, she knew he was smiling most cherishingly to her inside.

Unhurriedly he led her across the snow, little by little spinning her round as their bare feet moved over the soft surface, glistening like jewels of nature. The only thing she could see was Aragorn, and she knew that the only thing he saw from his heart was her.

Soon Arwen gradually became aware of Aragorn wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, and his eyes revealing his fondness for her. She glanced at the shawl, and to her surprise saw that it was not hers, but his cloak, and immediately the warmth which could only be from another human being spread into her body. Yet Aragorn just smiled lovingly, and pressed a light kiss to her cheek.

"…you mean the world to me, Undómiel," he whispered quietly into her ear. He edged back, and Arwen slid her left hand into his right, savouring his touch on her naked skin. Aragorn treasured this gesture, and was even more moved when she stroked her other fingers down his rough cheek.

"… and you are my heart, Elessar," she replied in her elven voice, suddenly smiling to realise what promise she had made to him. Taking her by the hand, Aragorn led her out onto the white ice of the frozen pool.

And all of a sudden they seemed to be spun away in a whirlwind of sparkling snow. They glided across the ice smoother than water and twirled round together even more perfect and graceful than dancers. Snowflakes flew all around them, and shone many colours, flitting about like minute fairies, charming the air around with colours of rainbows.

They waltzed over the ice as if running on air. They seemed to have wings, they moved so effortlessly and beautifully. Mystical streaks of snowflakes and stardust streamed around them, while a divine light shone out from where Arwen was touching Aragorn. It was like they were in a bubble, whirling over the frozen pool, bound together, with petals and snow and stars and lights falling magically around them.

The more they whirled around like two swans, the more Arwen gazed into Aragorn's eyes. The more she gazed into his eyes, the more she sighed. The more she sighed, the more her lips parted in bliss. The more her lips parted, the more she desired to kiss Aragorn. The more she desired to kiss Aragorn, the more love beat out of her heart. The more love beat out of her heart, the more love lit up her soul. The more love lit up her soul…

Arwen let out a deep sigh as Aragorn pressed his luscious lips to hers. She sensed herself kissing him back with all the love she had, all the passion which made her adore Aragorn to the end of Arda. But the love which he bore in his heart just kept coming. Its bounty was endless, its life overwhelming. Aragorn kissed her like – like he loved her, with every single thing he had.

His kiss was _so_ real. She could feel herself in his arms, and she could smell the warm scent of his hair. Aragorn's kiss lit up her heart. His lips moved tenderly over hers, and his tongue gently massaged in her mouth. Aragorn's love was right there. It overpowered her whole body, her senses, her mind, her heart, her soul…

His love… his kiss…

She was fading away, and she wished she could stay, she was in his very arms, but she was vanishing…

The more he disappeared, the more she loved him, the more her heart ached…

Aragorn's kiss had left her lips. Arwen's love had not left her heart.

The rest of the night, she wandered in empty, lonely halls of sleep. Alone.

When Arwen awoke in the morning, her heart still racing, she found the pillow stained with tears.


	12. Elrond's Troubles

Chapter 12 – Elrond's Troubles

Aragorn sighed deeply and subsequently ended up being overwhelmed by a huge yawn as he walked sedately down a passageway in the House of Elrond. It was strange how normally when he was sleepy he felt rather despondent, whereas right now he felt calm, but also relatively happy. The peace of Imladris could never fail to affect him.

When he turned a corner, he caught sight of his foster father leaning gently against the wall, propped up on the near side as he gazed through a crack in a doorway. Immediately Aragorn realised that it was Arwen's room, and he was filled with a curious misunderstanding at the obscene behaviour of such an elf.

Just as he was thinking this, Elrond turned as if hearing his voice and his eyes flickered in recognition but no smile dawned on his face.

"Aragorn," he said quietly, acknowledging him.

"My Lord." Aragorn inclined his head, reaching the doorway and standing on the opposite side.

Elrond shifted onto his other foot and gave a smile. "Aragorn, I have told you before, it is no matter that you now truly know that I am not your father, you still have my leave to call me one. I have loved you and still love you dearer than child."

"I am sorry… Ada," Aragorn answered back meekly. "I am thankful for your care."

"It is no problem, Estel," Elrond sighed. Aragorn presently noticed a fear quenching the elf-lord's eyes as they shifted to glance into the bedroom.

"Is- is something wrong?" Aragorn stuttered, not daring to look through the split in the doorway too.

Elrond's body moved into a heavy sigh. "Ai, it is only my daughter, but she is a precious burden to my heart."

This only confused Aragorn and resounded in his ears like riddles. "I am afraid I cannot understand you… is she ill?"

"No, Aragorn," Elrond replied, his eyes clouding over in thought, "she is not ill of body. She seems ill of heart."

Swallowing Aragorn looked up and down his foster father in front of him. "But… but why would she be like this? I know not why she could be so upset."

"Alas, neither do I!" exclaimed Elrond. "When I try to comfort her, she just ices over as cold as the winter snow and her eyes turn as impenetrable as frosted glass. I wish I could help her, Estel." His voice dropped despondently.

Aragorn stared down at the tiled floor for some time, pondering Arwen's sudden unusual behaviour. All of a sudden Elrond broke into his thoughts.

"Aragorn, perhaps you could help." This sounded more like a question than a statement, and Aragorn knew better than to think that he could weave his way out, even though he did not want to in this case.

"I know you like her." Aragorn heard this in alarm. But Elrond was looking at him completely normally, just asking him for help and using persuasion. The panic in Aragorn's chest eased off steadily: maybe what he had said really just was just what he had said.

"Aragorn," Elrond continued, "You might give hope to her. You have spread hope into all of our hearts, and you are young, and courageous. I think that maybe you could move her into seeing this light… Estel…?"

Aragorn swallowed nervously and met the eyes of his foster father. He perceived that all Elrond wanted was to see his daughter happy again, as she had been so often, ever since the day she had been born. How could he say no?

Deciding without much argument Aragorn nodded. No words could be spelt from his lips. Elrond, smiling faintly, laid his hand on the heavy oak door and pushed it further ajar. After taking a lung-size breath Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, and then walked in.

His eyes fell down upon Arwen, who was sitting a few feet away on the bed. An amorous breath aired his lips, for there was a sparkling mantle of beauty which always glimmered about her, and yet at the same moment, a sigh of anxiety left him, for a wave of concern had arisen within him. It was nothing he could see directly, but he felt it in the depths about him and he was moved.

Aragorn paused and looked at her, before Arwen realised that he was actually there. She was bunched up tightly with her knees folded to her chest. At first he could not see her face, for she was staring out of the windows open to the singing gardens of the valley, yet he could sense her unhappiness, and a breeze blew forlornly through her hair.

As soon as Aragorn moved forward again and touched the sheepskin rug on the floor of the bedchamber, he knew that Arwen could sense his presence. He called out to her softly.

"My lady?"

There was no sign of him having been heard, but suddenly Arwen said, "Leave me, Ada." Aragorn frowned, discovering that she had mistaken him for Elrond, but smiling with slight amusement he disobeyed her command and crept still nearer to her bed. Her voice had been cold and empty, and it reverberated emotively in the room. Aragorn could not help but be moved to aid her.

Reaching the bed, he turned and sat down very gently beside Arwen. He looked up and saw Elrond directly, standing in the doorway. Aragorn gave him a faint smile, and the elf-lord inclined his head before silently shutting the door.

Now in private Aragorn turned his gaze to Arwen. As soon as he had sat down close to her, she had hid her face in her arms, so that he could not see her. However Aragorn carefully touched two fingers on her cheek and slowly drew back her raven-brown hair. He noticed Arwen swallow and slowly she raised her eyes up to his profoundly concerned face.

"Estel…!" she breathed, gazing into his eyes with shock. Aragorn saw that her face was pale but already warmth was glowing in her blue eyes.

"I have come to heal you," Aragorn said softly, perfectly seriously but with a wonderful smile. "What is it which ails you?"

Arwen, smiling a little, opened her mouth and was about to say something, when a piercing look from Aragorn silenced her. He had a strange glint in his eye.

"Perhaps you have been overcome by the Shadow," Aragorn said, "in which case, I would use Athelas. But willow bark would aid you if your bones are aching. If you have a sore throat then I will give you honeyed tea, but feä lembas will give you strength of spirit. By chance you could have a cut or wound, so a drink made from coilas leaves will help you. Maybe your heart is in pain, and so elanor petals will soothe you."

Arwen smiled and laughed silently as he went through his list of treatments. But suddenly she noticed the calming sound of his low voice had stopped and she broke out of the trance.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Can I not heal you with any of these things?" Aragorn answered, watching her carefully.

"No," she said quietly, glancing down, "but you are a kingly healer, and none other will be the one who heals me… although-" she looked up at Aragorn "-I do not know how you can heal me."

"Don't worry," he whispered, with a small smile, "I will find a way."

As he looked at her, he felt himself become spellbound by her sapphire eyes, and the soft silence between them grew longer. But slowly he became aware of the touch of some fingertips against his own.

"Let me feel your hand," Aragorn murmured, still gazing at her. Before she could even mouth a reply he took Arwen's hand in between hers as if he was warming it. Her palm was cold and clammy. Then he lightly slid his fingers back down to the sensitive part of her wrist, and Arwen could not suppress a tiny gasp from the ticklish sensation.

"Your pulse is rapid," Aragorn commented, opening his eyes. He glanced up, and then pulled her sleeve back over her wrist. "It is a fine day. I think that a decent walk through the gardens will without doubt calm down stress."

Aragorn met her eyes and he saw as she tried to hide her surprise from his near-to-the-truth guessing. He smiled softly, and then rose from the bed.

"Come," he called her, "I will not take no for an answer."

While she swung her legs over the side of the bed and took his hand in order to get up, Aragorn could not fail to catch sight of a pink tinge to her previously snow-white cheeks.

Smiling merrily to himself, Aragorn opened the door and waited for Arwen to glide out before pulling it to behind them both. He also took this opportunity to try to hide his smile without her noticing. Aragorn was never really sure if he succeeded.

They walked down the passageway towards the entrance hall, passing some elves who were busying around, and heard much singing coming from one of the merriment halls. Soon they came to the grand door which was thrown out wide to let the sunshine dance joyfully upon the floor.

As they made for it Aragorn noticed Elrond, over in the far corner holding a piece of parchment and conversing animatedly with Glorfindel. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aragorn too, and their eyes locked. Aragorn bowed his head and gave the elf-lord a concealed smile, and Elrond nodded back to his foster-son in thanks.

Aragorn led Arwen down the steps towards the main glade beside the waterfall. The twittering of birds and delighted shouts of elves mingled with the great rush of its shooting water.

From time to time he glanced over to Arwen, but she seemed lost in thought, so he left her to her ponderings and watched the elves bathing in the winding blue ribbon of water

stretching from the base of the waterfall.

Finally Arwen spoke. "Thank you for coming to me, Estel," she whispered. "I… I didn't… I didn't think…" she could not put into words what she wanted to say and Aragorn smiled broadly.

"Arwen?" he said. She met his blue-grey eyes and smiled. "There is just one think I would like to ask you…" Arwen glanced down at her feet and Aragorn could not read her expression. "I was wondering," he continued, "why you often call me Estel, when you have always known that I am Aragorn?"

Arwen sighed long and hard, not speaking immediately. But when they reached the glade she paused and turned to face him. A smile lit up her pink lips and she looked up to gaze in Aragorn's eyes, her own glimmering like crystals with the sparkles of the waterfall.

"Because," she breathed, "you are my hope."


	13. The Chase of the Man and the Elfmaiden

Watch out for the next chapter, it's the one you've all been waiting for! ; )

Chapter 13 - The Chase of the Man and the Elf-maiden

Aragorn stood as still as stone, staring into Arwen's unavoidable eyes, apparently listening to the roar of the waterfall. But actually he was hearing Arwen's implicative words whispering emotively again and again in his ears.

Arwen glanced up and flashed him a radiant smile, taking both of his hands into her soft ones and then pulling him forward. In surprise Aragorn followed, realising, as Arwen gave him a quick glance up and down his body, that they were meant to be having a walk together, at his suggestion. They slowly wandered over towards the hanging white flowers surrounding the spraying waterfall.

He heard Arwen gave a little sigh and then she smiled brightly, clearly way on the mend by his standards. "So what would you like to do now that my father deems you old enough to have the choice?" she asked him.

At this Aragorn smiled to himself. "I always wanted to be a healer."

"That's wonderful!" Arwen exclaimed. "I can see you doing that! It suits your character… caring and kind…" she trailed off shyly and turned rosy pink.

Aragorn's burning gaze fixated on her. He felt the gentle hold of her hand still in his. A soaring wave of love poured out of his eyes, washing over Arwen's motionless form. If she had raised her fair face up to his, she would have seen his heart's call right then.

After a moment Aragorn shook himself together and glanced away. "But…" he murmured to himself, remembering what he was saying.

"Have you changed your mind?" Arwen asked, lightening up once more.

Aragorn laughed and brushed a hand over his eyes. "I had an idea recently. I tried some sword-work with Elladan and Elrohir, and we went out into the Wild for a few days. We had a few battles with some rogue orc parties, and I was actually quite good at it. Then we went out again, and I was able to use a bow and arrows as well, and some daggers. I really enjoyed it, and your brothers said that I fought excellently, not only for a mortal but also seeing as I had not even picked up a weapon before."

Aragorn gave another laugh. "But now…"

Arwen's face fell despondently. "Well, I'm sure you would have been a good soldier," she said quietly.

But she didn't see the smile on Aragorn's face. "No," he said, looking at her. "You don't understand me…" He stuttered "I… I would like to be a Ranger."

A beautiful smile graced Arwen's face, lighting up her azure eyes like stars.

Seeing this Aragorn smiled. "Then I can be every aspect of my character. I can fight for the goodness and love in this world, and I don't have to be a legendary fallen King to do it!"

With a light-hearted sigh he also said, "My father – your father – agrees with me." This came as some surprise to Arwen. "Do not be shocked!" he exclaimed. "I have had this idea for about a year now. He supports me totally, and before long now we have decided that I will leave Imladris and go into the Wild."

Smiling broadly he gazed into the gurgling river as if remembering a past conversation. He was unaware of the fallen look in Arwen's eyes, and the sadness in her hurt voice as she gave a whisper. "_Before long_…" she dared to say.

However Aragorn did not hear her. "I think that your brothers must have had a say in the matter!" he laughed, "but I know that your Ada was pleased right to his heart with my choice. Although, he seemed loath to let me go."

"You are still young," Arwen said quietly. Aragorn looked at her.

"I know," he said softly. He gave a sigh, leaving a silence in the air between them. He did not notice the playful smile which crept up Arwen's face.

"Which means…" she said, Aragorn meeting her eyes finally, "that you need some practise!" A brilliant smile lit up her face, and Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Tolo!" (Come!) she laughed, and with that, Arwen moved forward to run off, her fingers pulling out of his hand, grazing out along his palm until they _just_ touched on his tips, and she waited fondly.

Chuckling Aragorn followed her and, sure that he would keep coming, Arwen sprung off, running quicker than firelight away from him. He sprinted off hot on her tail, chasing her over to the little white path. Arwen ducked under a green trailer hanging lazily from an archway as the path scraped above the roaring river, and Aragorn took the opportunity to make a plan to try to seize her.

She had slowed down, delicately pulling apart the curtain of leaves, and was apparently unawares of Aragorn's scheming. But just as he stretched out to catch her, her narrow body twisted out of his grasp as easily as raising a finger, and turning to laugh openly at his failed attempt Arwen just ran faster.

Aragorn grinned and fled after the elf maiden, his eyes fixed solely upon her. They ran together along balconies and past archways and paved circles, heedless of the other elves who basked in the last rays of summer. They were unnoticed in the joyful rush, and their laughs soon became lost in the roars of the river and yells of other elves.

But as he chased after Arwen, Aragorn felt himself slowly become entranced by her beautiful form twisting and gliding before him. He was utterly fascinated by such graceful and smooth movements she made, as if in tune to the love-song his heart sang, and she danced to his heart's wish. His mind was filled with scores of images of Arwen, her long hair falling into ebony waves as she ran and her delicate white dress pressing to her slender body, revealing her luxurious curves and elegance.

Aragorn realised that she had seemed to have enchanted him, but she did not see this… or at least, he did not think so, not yet.

Arwen giggled as she ran before him, laughter bubbling up inside her as she let a mortal try to chase her. She knew it was a hard tease, and her father would disapprove and tell her off for being so mean… but he did not know! And anyway, for Arwen she found it amusing, and she would never let Aragorn feel the hard pain of losing.

While the skill of her elven body made her a quick runner, and her size and shape made her an even faster elf, she would slow down to run only just out of reach of Aragorn. He knew not that hardly anyone could catch her, perhaps only Glorfindel, but she liked to think that he could only if he was having a good day (and Glorfindel never had a bad day).

They presently came down into a tiny coomb hidden amongst the flourishing riverbed, and amidst the flowering grasses and butter-yellow irises, Arwen spotted a narrow crossing a few feet above the swirling blue waters. She delicately ran over the smooth stone, feeling for a moment a shaft of sunlight warm her skin before she was enclosed once more in the cool gold-edged undergrowth.

Glancing behind, she saw Aragorn cross the bridge too. He moved fast, rapider than she had believed a mortal was capable of. It made her veins shoot on end and she blushed, turning away before there was the chance that he would see. But because she was barefoot, Arwen could still sprint even faster, and she managed to escape him for a while.

Aragorn watched as she shot back up the river banks, slipping away from him as if vanishing with elf-magic. But Aragorn was not foolish, and seeing her ploy, he did not follow her winding path, but with a grin sneaked through the undergrowth, unseen because he was hidden by all the leafy plants.

At a jump he emerged back onto the path, having gained many paces, and Arwen's eyes widened in surprise. He was so close behind her now, and unwaveringly resolute that he would not let her go. His mind was fixed on Arwen so totally that he did not realise the depths of his breaths and the heaving of his chest. The music of Rivendell's nature filled his ears instead – the rush of the waterfall, the buzzing of the bees, the shouts of the elves, the song from the halls, the tweeting of the birds, the gurgling of the river, the hum of the insects… the sharp breaths that passed Arwen's lips…

He saw her flee up some steps and they came much nearer to the House, passing along a ledge below the first few rooms. Some elves peered out of their windows as they passed, but most of them were outside on their balconies, laughing and talking peacefully, barely batting an eyelid at their chase. They were there and then gone so swiftly that many elves did not even see them pass.

Aragorn followed closely, weaving in and out of the marble pillars outside the entrance hall while they darted past Elrond's window, gone like the wind before he could search for the miscreant who had scattered all his papers in an uncalled-for breeze. They jumped down a few steps, and then ran up some more, shooting like fire-bullets past the main hall, where elves munching thoughtfully on lembas bread glanced up in surprise at the strange sight laid out before the windows.

Arwen led him hurriedly beneath a canopy of honeysuckle, where the flowers were at last beginning to fall and daintily laced her white dress… before Aragorn charged past and sent them fluttering with chatters back into the air. He saw the excitement in her eyes as he came so close to catching her, so near as they ran round the bend in the path and he stretched out his empty fingers. But he could not quite do it.

She scurried towards a spiralling staircase, rising up from the lawn and curling upwards towards the sky. Aragorn followed it upwards with his eyes, and in doing so collided with a bush. A showering of leaves and butterflies was sent everywhere. Arwen broke down in laughter and helplessly leant against the stair rail as she watched him dazedly detach himself.

Then suddenly he leapt over the bush as if filled with renewed energy and his outstretched hands brushed over the silky surface of her dress. With a shriek Arwen ran for her life, Aragorn flying up the steps after her, too in love with her beauty to allow her out of his sight. He found that he was catching up, since he was able to take a few steps at a time, whereas Arwen was forced to glide up them like a lady.

That second that pity took the half of him, he regretted it, for Arwen took the chance to almost pass a whole circuit of the winding stairs. But he pulled himself on, his hands grasping feebly at the warm steps above, his determination overwhelming his body's ability. Never before had so young a mortal managed to keep up such a speed after an elf within the boundaries of Imladris.

All Aragorn could see as he chased her were the elegant bare feet running before his eyes up the stone steps. In the sunlight her pink toenails flashed like rose petals scattered about the ground, when he looked they were in one place, then he blinked and they were in another. The hem of the white dress rustled around her ankles, held up by her hand, and it scuffed the ground in a single sweep when she reached the final step and let it go.

Panting Aragorn launched himself over the last three steps and a narrow white bridge appeared out in front of them. It was as smooth as water, and it shot forward like a channel of water to vanish into the trees. Yet ahead, as he followed closely after Arwen's dashing slender body, with surprise he began to make out the waterfall of the garden they alone knew.

Aragorn glanced around at the other elves who stood by the house, laughing and playing too. But none of them seemed to have noticed the appearance of the garden. He turned back and ran carefully across the bridge. A showering of laughter reached his ears. He saw Arwen way ahead of him and smiling brilliantly as she slipped into the trees like a shadow.

Aragorn shook the thoughts out of his head, speeding up to jump from the little bridge to the soft ground and sprinted after the elf maiden, catching sight of her white dress through the snowy tree limbs. To his great disbelief, he was catching up on her very well, for any elf could easily elude him. Yet then he saw the tell-tale hint: while she was running, Arwen slowly looked down and turned her head the smallest inconceivable amount, in order to sneak a look over her shoulder at him.

It was then that a smile burst out onto his face. Arwen was doing this on purpose.

A path became apparent as they ran through the undergrowth, and soon recognisable ferns pulled back to give way to interlocking bushes of multicoloured flowers which held in the tumbling flowers of the garden. Aragorn watched as Arwen slipped with ease under a wave of birch leaves from the massive birch tree, and promptly she vanished, the hand she held on the branch sliding after her and disappearing too.

Aragorn leapt forward, diving underneath the branch, and emerging into their secret paradise. Arwen was barely ahead now, her shining dress rippling over the rich green grass as she ran, but she turned slowly as she sensed him behind her, and gave him an alluring smile.

Mirroring her joy, with his eyes twinkling brighter than the last catches of the summer sun, Aragorn ran to her, sweeping Arwen up into his arms, cradling her to his body with more love than a baby, and he twirled her round and round as their voices mingled in screams of laughter. Undying happiness arose within them, flashes of heaven passing before their eyes as they swirled round and round, lost in each others' eyes.

Gradually Aragorn slowed down, their laughter quietening, and finally Aragorn put down his last footstep. He paused as he searched Arwen's blue eyes, feeling her intake of breath as she was about to say something. His senses were suddenly aroused, maybe because Arwen's arm was resting around his neck, or her chest was brushing against his, or perhaps because he was in such proximity to her beauty…

But instead Arwen simply sighed amorously, and smiled as she looked him in the eyes-


	14. The Kiss in the Waterfall

Chapter 14 – The Kiss in the Waterfall

Smiling Aragorn gently lowered Arwen to the ground, watching her with great care as she smoothed down her white dress over her slender, perfect shape. When she looked up and caught him watching, her smile was only enhanced.

Then suddenly the breath was stolen from Aragorn's lips. He saw the nervousness as she dared to hold out her hand to him, quivering nervously in the dragonfly-concentrated air, her porcelain skin graced by the sweeping sleeve of the airy white dress. With his heart hammering like an orc armed solely with a steel mallet, Aragorn slowly walked towards her and took her hand into his.

At that exact moment, both he and Arwen noticed for the first time how precisely perfect the fit was. Arwen blushed shyly and glanced down as he came to stand in front of her.

"Arwen?" he whispered.

She would not reply, but as he strained for a glance of her face, he saw the reddening smile that she was trying to hide. Knowing what she was thinking he slipped his other hand into hers and he saw a sigh escape her lips. Her big blue eyes swivelled up to focus on him.

At that look he felt her begin to tug him, and she started to walk steadily backwards. His eyebrows knitted together, but Aragorn obeyed her wish, and let her pull him along, noticing as she stepped down from his vision and slid one foot into the water of the shimmering pool. He too slipped into the water, feeling its sensuous touch creep up around them, its silken touch caressing both their bodies.

In those moments that he gazed into Arwen's eyes, he felt something like the calling of a dream which pulled them both towards the waterfall; it was a power that called to both their hearts. Voices seemed to echo up all around him, whisperings like the silver spray, pleadings like a heart's cry. As Aragorn was drawn deeper into the pool, Arwen's cool voice rang in his ears, her sighs wrapping all around him, speaking in the elvish tongue, and as he tried to understand them, the voices became louder, but more rapid, slurring and flowing like some elvish enchantment that he had never heard before. He could not believe the very beauty of the words that she appeared to be saying, yet, his eyes focusing down on her red lips, without even speaking a single word.

Aragorn stared into her eyes, unable to believe the mystical beauty that was winding all around him. Her touch seemed to wash all over his body, the very water felt under her power, beckoning him, urging him towards her. Her voices echoed in the air, raining about him like music, begging him to her. Aragorn would not have trusted it, until…

…until his sight told him that her own blue eyes were calling out to his soul…

Aragorn let a soft moan escape his lips, his soul pour forth from the swirling mists of his dark eyes all the sweet love that had enriched in his heart for the days since he had met her. He could not lie to her with a look, and he could never lie to her with his heart. Aragorn knew… he was in love with this elf-maiden…

And she sighed too, their clasped hands held tightly to each of their chests and linking hearts. Her long hair caught in the breeze of the waterfall, delicately starting to flutter like fine ribbons. The closeness of their eyes now seemed to be extremely near, so close that she could see every wonderful detail of his handsome features which made up his gorgeous manly face. She could not bear to shield her heart's love from him for any longer, from someone so gentle, so caring, so loving…

If it was possible Arwen's eyes softened even more. Spray flew onto her face and hair, glittering on her rosy cheeks and gleaming like gems on her brow. Her angelic white dress pressed round her body, teasing on the fluttering sleeves and smoothing over her perfect waist, accentuating her natural elven figure of beauty and seduction.

She dare not believe the emotions which moved in behind Aragorn's eyes. But they were so true, just like his heart. She read the hundreds of expressions of love for her, following his sight as he trailed adoringly down her slender body. The inability to breathe struck her as she felt his searing stare move over her flat stomach, wrapping round her chest, sweeping over her necklace, and gliding back up to her eyes.

Aragorn had always been fascinated by Arwen's eyes. But never before had they shone so brightly, so blue and so brilliant.

She smiled when she saw his intent gaze into her eyes, and laughter filled them… and innocent love. Flecks of silver girdled them like precious stars, mirroring not only the radiance of the curtain of water, but also the beauty of Arda, and the joy of life which she felt. They glistened more beautifully than jewels, blossomed more sweetly than the evening flowers, watched him more entrancingly than the moon.

And deep within her eyes, Arwen's soul poured out her love to him. Aragorn fell more and more in love with her, his heart beating with ever-blazing passion, wishing desperately with everything he had to be able to dive inside those shimmering eyes and reach her soul. The despair of love must have displayed in his tender complexion, for Arwen gave him a look of concern, her pink lips parted and she swallowed meekly.

Her eyes melted romantically, and the beauty of the immortal elf-maiden gave Aragorn the irresistible impulse to display his affections to her. Slowly he raised up two fingers and gently stroked the side of her smooth creamy cheek, sending shivers through her body that could make Arda quiver in its very seat. She closed her eyes in bliss.

"Don't stop," she breathed when he took his finger away. Then gradually she opened her eyes, blinking long and slowly and drawing Aragorn's gaze. With every flash of her exquisitely-long eyelashes, Aragorn's pupils in his eyes contracted and expanded in arousal. Arwen edged nearer and smiled very faintly. Aragorn smiled too.

He gave a tiny sigh he watched as a puff of playful wind from the waterfall sent a stray lock of hair sweeping over her nose. From the expression on her face, it was greatly tickling her nose, and although she was dying to be contrary to her elven nature, Arwen refused bluntly to scratch it off.

But with an affectionate smile Aragorn moved closer and brushed the dark hair out of her eyes, staying in that pose for a moment as he fondled the silky strands. She smiled and caught his eye when he looked back at her.

"Your eyes are so deep and blue," he suddenly let out under his breath, and it seemed then as if Arwen made them twinkle like stars, and she leant in closer to him, so that Aragorn fell in further, caught in a shimmering whirlpool. She blinked slowly and gazed at his grey eyes, sensing herself sink inside him. His adoration moved her heart, and she drew in silently until she was just about to touch his body.

"Aragorn…" she murmured, and her lips parted slightly as she looked at the contours of his divine face, the tumbling locks of his dark hair, his rough cheekbones, his smooth brow, his tender lips… and those misty grey eyes…

"What?" he replied softly, questioning her and shaking his head a little. Arwen stirred and suddenly realised she had been intently surveying his face for a few minutes, with her eyes washing delightfully all over his handsome features. She blushed in embarrassment and averted her eyes.

But with a soft frown Aragorn gently tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes. She shivered, not because she was cold from the simmering water or the wafting breeze, but because she suddenly felt so sensitive to his touch. She did not want to meet his eyes, yet still she did, and then she felt she adored him even more.

"Estel, I…" Arwen trailed off and flushed an even pinker shade to match the colour of her lips. She could not bring herself to say it, yet she was so overwhelmed by it… by him… Estel. As she managed to murmur his name under her breath he gazed at her, straining to absorb all her elven-fair beauty.

The expression on Aragorn's face was of the utmost love, the longing and concern washing into her, and she was overwhelmed by love for him… she loved him so much… she could never bear to take herself away from him…

"Estel…" Arwen breathed, her voice only just above a whisper. "I- I think I have_ fallen in love with you…_"

Their heart beats seemed to sound in their ears as they both dared to realise what she had just proclaimed. Aragorn was gazing at her and the love in his eyes was becoming crystal clear. He began to lean in slowly, his eyes dancing with hers, and subconsciously he tipped his head to the side. Arwen felt drawn in too, the love her soul sighed with echoing out through her fresh sparkling eyes. Aragorn never let go of them until the last moment.

Gently he moved his lips over hers and slowly he began to press a deep kiss to her full moistened lips. Arwen gave a tiny gasp of surprise, but immediately a gorgeous feeling of love surged up and set free her soul. She could not resist hungrily kissing him back, the love which burst in her heart now replacing with his.

The way he kissed her was amazing, and it felt like a long desire had finally come true. The one who she loved so dearly loved her just the way that she did to him. He expressed himself so clearly by the gentle motion of his warm lips, the love sensations bubbling inside her more delightfully than anything else in the whole of Arda.

As Aragorn tenderly drew away, Arwen slowly opened her shockingly blue eyes upon him. For a moment she just gazed at him, unable to believe the endlessly beautiful love which he bore for her. And then she smiled, she smiled so softly and beautifully, her eyes glistening starlight and her lips shining magenta.

Love soared into Aragorn's heart, his eyes dissolving with one look at her. To know that this elf-maiden highest of all to walk this earth was in love with him too was too much for his heart to hold. Only love seared through him, only his love for Arwen.

Finding this in his eyes, Arwen was touched beyond the boundaries of the Void. She had fallen in love… and so had Aragorn.

Still with a tender smile Arwen bent in towards him, and Aragorn stole the breath from her lips with another kiss. Explosions of love immediately burst inside her tummy, and she pulled herself tight into his embrace, her sleeves falling quietly back to her elbows and her fingers entwining even more passionately with his.

She did not know how Aragorn managed to find her soul and cradle it so gently in his love, but that one kiss he gave her showered Arwen with the elation which made her want to cleave to his heart forever.

When Arwen soothingly kissed him back he knew that her life was now bound to the very beatings of his heart, and their fate would be tied together. Days would only be beautiful if Arwen was in them, and a night without her would be as long as all the ages of the earth.

Then silently, Aragorn deepened the kiss, carefully sliding his tongue into her mouth. Instantaneously he sensed Arwen become overpowered with such close love, and she fell limp, but his hands were already creeping around her waist and he was ready to catch her in his arms.

And then to his delight he felt her start the love dance, and she beautifully began to massage his tongue, sending unimaginable emotions firing through his body, and weakening his very knees that supported them both.

At last Arwen drew away, the love between them now flaming, breathing heavily while Aragorn himself gasped from the length and power of the kiss. Her eyes opened up upon him, and he smiled. He would always hold closest to his heart the deepest love for her that no words could describe, in any tongue, elvish or mortal, or with any length of parchment.

Only Arwen could feel it as she met his eyes. And as she sighed his elvish name, and the sleek streaks of their hair mingled like starry mists, and trickled her fingers temptingly down his cheekbone from his watchful eyes to his lips, the love which poured out from her glittering eyes was overflowed because of his that was rapidly filling her endearing heart. Just one kiss would be enough to satisfy her soul and then she would gladly take death. A life of love with Aragorn was everything to her, even a sacrifice of her precious life.

As if reading her very thoughts through her eyes Aragorn smiled and snaked his arms tighter around her slender waist, cuddling her intimately to him. She could not help but edge so close to him that her breaths played mischievously on his cheeks.

He looked up into her appealing blue eyes, fighting desperately with himself to not openly kiss her to reveal his heart's full passion. "Le melon, Arwen," (I love you) he whispered, with a gentle teasing smile.

And she smiled with the love so sweet that none other, not even Lúthien herself, had expressed before in the whole ancient history of Arda. The way Aragorn managed to tease his lips down and lock her in another soul-tickling kiss chose the heavy doom which now laid on her life, but Arwen just smiled as she kissed her Estel back, and took it openly to her heart with the heavenliest love.

xxxxxx

So… what did you think:D


	15. Arwen's Last Dream

Chapter 15 – Arwen's Last Dream, which, in fact, wasn't actually her last, or her first, or even one somewhere in the middle.

Aragorn tapped himself on the head to stop dreaming. His imagination was careering away from his grasp and the memory of the day's events was still lingering on his lips. Even a sigh could still burst free from his lips at the thought of Arwen, heaven in his arms, the cleansing sight of her, the delicious essence of her lips…

Aragorn racked himself on the head again. Shadows were thrown all about him so there was no one to see (and perhaps howl with laughter) although it was past midnight so someone would be slightly deluded anyway if they were still up in Elrond' house at that hour (well the elf-lord had taught Aragorn to think that way anyhow, even though Aragorn saw matters differently).

Yet even in the poor lighting with all the flame-torches cast into oblivion Aragorn still knew that he had come to face the door to… Arwen's bedchamber. His hand slipped automatically down to the handle and he quietly pushed open the door. The soft creak shivered in the still air and he immediately held his breath tightly, straining his eyes through the gloom to see where she lay. From this distance she was unclear, yet she made no movement at his entrance. Exhaling out with relief, he turned to shut the door, and gradually began to pad his way barefoot over the wooden floor to her bed.

As he came round, the moon peaked out from behind the hoary clouds, and it shone a white beam down through the window, sneaking in between a gap in the curtains. It fell upon Arwen's bed, illuminating where her body lay, and giving Aragorn the chance to stealthily tiptoe to her bedside.

Her chest was rising and falling steadily, although no sound of her slumber came to Aragorn's ears. The white embroidered sheets were wrapped tightly over her body, shining for a moment, before the moon vanished once more and sank behind its thick veil. The room descended into darkness again, nightshade pouring into every corner.

Very gently Aragorn sat down next to her, desperately attempting not to stir her dreaming snoozing. The mattress sank under his weight, but Arwen stayed as still as stone, unmoving in her sleep. Aragorn's eyes became accustomed to the dark and he focused upon her face.

Arwen's face. Aragorn had not the will power to hold back that deep aching moan that rushed out of his quivering lips. Her beauty imprinted itself into Aragorn's mind, fastening onto his soul, locking itself inside his heart. The sharp line of her eyebrows, the alluring curls of her long eyelashes, the smooth line of her nose, the shy appearance of her cheekbones, the calmness of her cheeks, and her lips…

Aragorn gulped and averted his eyes. Valar, he should no, he should not go there.

There was the most divine expression on Arwen's pure elven face, so dear and gentle, her beauty glimmering in the night's splendour like the very gems of Valinor. So still and motionless, yet so heart-wrenching and soul-teasing. Aragorn stood no chance of forging a dam against his passionate love. At the moment all he barred against it was something rather like a grain of sand, and unfortunately, he knew it too.

The love erupted within him and Aragorn's eyes slid up to her lips. No desire could be greater than his, in all of Middle-Earth and beyond, than to kiss such a seducing elf-maiden right then. Their gorgeous curves set a girdle of fire about Aragorn's heart, tightening his breathing, shortening his breaths. The hot magenta pink colour shone even through the blackness, searing into Aragorn's hungrily staring eyes, shamelessly pulling down his defences.

"Oh Valar," Aragorn cried feebly, forcing himself to lean down upon the bed beside her, and wind his body around her captivating figure. Every pigment in her bursting full lips was shining in the light of Aragorn's eyes. Every round curve was making his lips ache to all eternity. Every vision of such beautiful lips so attractive and openly ready to be kissed set the love in the chambers of his heart swelling at such a rate that by morning Aragorn would be the size of Arda.

"Please forgive me…" Aragorn gasped, before slowly closing his eyes and moving his dense breaths over Arwen's face, descending to brush his lips over hers. At that very first touch Aragorn sank into euphoric rapturous paradise and everything in his enthused heart induced him to go on.

Such tenderness had never come to Aragorn before, as he leant down into a deep kiss, moving his lips around hers and pressing down with sweet passion. His soul felt set free, his body felt such peace as was displayed in Arwen's complexion. The sense of undying love resonated through his mind, and the gorgeous feeling of her lips burning with passion against his was like bliss merged with fire. He could not do anymore except run his lips over hers, massaging them so gently he felt that with such contentment and happiness he might vanish altogether into thin air.

"Oh Valar," Aragorn moaned again, drawing away, but his eyes unable to budge from their stare on Arwen's flushing lips. "Oh Ilúvatar, oh save me…" Trembling, the electric emotion sparked off in him experimenting with his senses, he daringly brought forward his two forefingers and stroked them down her still cheek. The smooth touch as soft as elven silk seemed to have an even more immeasurable effect upon him.

"Arwen, tintallë en 'uren nín…" he breathed, (Arwen, kindler of my heart) and his swirling misty eyes washed his love never-endingly over her perfected beauty.

Suddenly her eyes flashed open and immediately fell into a tight lock with his with his. Aragorn's heart shocking flipped over half-a-dozen times, accidentally setting free a whole bouquet of love; but although the rest of Arwen's face remained still as before, he saw the secret love glimmering teasingly in her eyes. They shone a shocking colour in the night, cobalt blue as deep as the ocean, and yet, as she gazed into his grey eyes, Aragorn caught sight of the silver stars which had always stirred his heart, and now they glistened as if they had rained down from the velvety sky and settled in her eyes like crystals.

Then Arwen leant up on her elbows, a soft smile creeping up her face, and slowly she kissed him on the lips. The tenderness with which she did this stole away Aragorn's heart and love ached within him. Arwen must have sensed this, for when after a long moment she had drawn back, she lifted her twinkling eyes up to his and gave him the most heart touching smile.

Aragorn could not bring himself to splutter any words. He had been blown away temporarily, and would return in a few heart-simmering seconds.

Now smiling brilliantly Arwen said in a low voice, "I recognised your kiss…"

Aragorn's eyebrows flickered upwards. "My kiss?" he questioned, leaning forward to stroke her free waves of tumbling raven hair, with such care shooting through his fingers he never thought it possible in such a small action.

Arwen sparkled her eyes in recognition, shyly glancing down. Aragorn let a smile warm his lips, finding her somehow (and it was possible) even more mischievously attractive when she did that. The coy flashing of her long eyelashes and the sudden pink flushing of her cheeks did not fail to turn him right on. The answer why, however, or even finding out why, did not even dawn on Aragorn's dark horizon.

"Um, Estel?" she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment in harmony as he ran his fingertips gingerly over the point of her sensitive ear. "There is something you should know," she finished in a soft gasp.

Bending nearer he let his sighs dance upon her skin. She did not think he was listening.

"Aragorn," she said a tad impatiently. There was no reply. She gave him a prod. "Aragorn?" she hissed. There was a sleepy murmur of recognition at his name. After seeing that he was gazing to a vast extent appreciatively at her complexion, Arwen, smiling broadly, knew that he was listening at last. "Estel… I recognised you because… because…" she took a nervous glance up at him and hurriedly looked back down "because… every night I have dreamed of you. Every night you kissed me in my dreams…"

She swung her eyes up to his, and instantly had a balmy wave of adoration pour into her. Aragorn's face had melted to complete and utter nothingness apart from basking in love and his eyes were accordingly softened and kind.

"Arwen…" he panted, carefully moving to brush his nose against hers. She smiled at this sign of affection and together they rubbed noses, until Aragorn edged back.

"Arwen," he began again, "there is something that I should be telling you too." He looked at her quickly. "You- you have not been dreaming of me kissing you."

A deep frown fell on Arwen's face, and her eyes clouded over. "I did dream of that, Estel, I can remember every second as if it was real." A strange expression overcame Aragorn's face, and she was sure his eyebrows contracted in the quickest of flares, but in a snap it cracked and was gone.

He glanced down, to where his chest lay lightly on hers. "Arwen, you did not just dream of me kissing you." He took a cavernous breath. "Arwen, every night since I showed you to the waterfall garden I have come to your bedroom and pressed a kiss to your lips. Every time that you have slept since you fell asleep in the cave I have kissed you, because at that moment when you awoke, I saw in your- your- your eyes what you had dreamt."

During this confession white shock had filled Arwen's face. Her blue eyes had enlarged to twice their normal size and Aragorn was presently having difficulty in finding them dreadfully appealing while desperately trying to speak. "I- I, err…" he gave a cough, "Ahem, um, I… err… happened to kiss you when you, um, had fallen asleep, and I realised immediately afterwards that you had dreamt of it also. I feared that, um… from then on, if you slept and did not dream the same, you would be heartbroken, that I was not visiting your dreams… so every night I have come here… and I kissed you."

He warmly met her eyes and watched as they had become rounder and rounder. But there was something else which lay sparkling in hers.

"You- you-" Arwen stuttered, at a loss for words. "You- you came to me every night? You kissed me every night so that I did not get upset?"

Aragorn took a fleeting look down and smiled. "Yes," he whispered, trailing a finger ticklishly over the back of her hand.

"_Estel…_" she gasped. Slightly anxiously Aragorn swung his eyes up to hers. The view that met his eyes swept his heart into his mouth. The expression on Arwen's face put across just how much love she felt for him, and her blue eyes wider than the sea mirrored it with the depths of her thirsting soul, and he saw the aching within, the extent to which he had lovingly moved her.

Ever so slowly she moved forward to kiss him. From the moment she touched his lips, the way in which she kissed was so deep and heart-wrenching that Aragorn could not believe what was happening to his befuddled senses. He ardently kissed back, echoing the love he overflowed with while her soft lips moved over his. She then dared to slide her tongue into his mouth, her heart shooting fiery passion into him, massaging as if it was the last kiss they would ever share. She gasped as they broke for air, and then came back even hotter than before.

When Aragorn at last teased their lips apart, Arwen gave a funny little 'oh' noise.

"Arwen?" he asked, looking at her a bit strangely, trying to conceal the smile fiercely fighting against him to stay on his face.

"Oh…" Arwen said again, and through the darkness he saw her close her eyes. "Estel, does this mean that this is my last dream of you?"

The stubborn smile finally triumphed over Aragorn's face. "No," he replied.

"What?" Arwen said softly, opening her eyes upon him.

"No," Aragorn repeated, "This is not your last dream, nor is it your first, or anywhere in the middle. All the times," he murmured, leaning closer to her, "that I have kissed you," he brushed past her cheek, "have been real."

Aragorn began to kiss her sensitive jawbone, and Arwen let out another tiny 'oh' noise as he moved the heavenly sensations down her neck, and silently drew away the nightdress which coated her shoulders. She collapsed back onto the pillow, lying helpless as he caressed her in his arms, working his tickling kisses all over her collarbone and steadily winding his way back up her smooth neck.

"Estel…" Arwen managed to say, a warning note in her voice. Aragorn however only smiled and continued to keep kissing her. She felt the tender motion of his lips creep up her chin, and knew the inevitability of where they were destined to fall on next. She gave a blissful sigh and looked up at Aragorn, who paused and met her eyes. The mere way his eyes glistened and his hair tumbled down softly around her face made her beam with utmost pleasure, but as she saw the half-innocent half-cheekily-in-love smile sneak out upon his face, Arwen broke out into giggles.

And then he kissed her again, slowly massaging his lips over hers, not leaving any precious area untouched, before moving inwards and searching her mouth, dancing his tongue with hers and kissing with every ounce of love that lit up his brilliant-white soul.

"Oh… Arwen?" he whispered, some minutes later, after many kisses had sealed quite a bit more than their lips together.

"Mmmm?" she hmmmed, lazily reaching up a hand to weave her fingers through his silky curtain of hair. He noticed that she didn't even bother to open her eyes. The beautiful satisfaction that she felt was open to him, especially when she ran her other fingers down from their place on his cheekbone to his hard bronzed chest, revealed by the silky elven shirt tight to his manly body.

He felt the beginnings of her desire again and he could not resist. "Arwen," he whispered, lying down beside her and leaning dangerously close to her lips, "I think that now you may finally have genuine dreams."

"Really?" she mumbled, not seeming to be totally listening to what he was saying. "I think that now I may finally get to kiss you myself…" And she lifted her head up from the pillow, and by skilfully winding her arm around the back of Aragorn's neck managed to bring him down in a deep longing kiss.

It was Aragorn's turn to let out an 'oh'. He found that with the ecstatic affections he felt inside him, he found her lips irresistible. Arwen just giggled again and kissed him more lovingly and enticingly than she had ever dreamed.


End file.
